Blood Lines
by Vara
Summary: COMPLETE: Snape is facing PMR. The test results from Mungos are questionable though, and thats enough to get the Ministry involved. Voldemort hears about the diagnosis and sets plans in motion. Albus and Alastor are hiding things, and Fudge is a fool.
1. The Final Stages

All persons places or things that you recognize are not mine. I am drawing heavily from J. K. Rowling's Potter-verse and I'm NOT making any money AT ALL!

**Sunna **(a loyal reviewer and advisor)** has drawn some awesome pics based on this fic. She also has a ton of other awesome pics not based on this fic. If you want to see her work **(and what I think are the best Snape pics out there)** then go to her side7 gallery: **(http:// www .side7. com /cgi-bin /S7SDB /Archive .pl?ANO =7113) **Just take out the spaces. I'll also link pics with the chapters. **But you will most likely still have to take out the spaces.

_'Italics are thoughts'_

(Parentheses) (are background)

3~~~'s are writings that are being read i.e. book excerpts or letters ~~~

1~ is a time lapse, I'll tell or give clues as to the length.

@--'---,----------- means Meanwhile-in-another-part-of-town or something like that.

CHAPTER 1:

Trying to stifle another wracking cough, Snape took his seat at the head table with as much of his usual decorum as he could manage. 

"Not sick are we?" Minerva asked with as much apparent concern as she would give to the probable fate of a dust bunny. 

Without waiting for a reply, that probably never would have come anyway, she scooted her seat over to make a few centimeters of extra room between herself and Snape. Turning to Lupin, seated on her right, she continued the conversation they had been having. "As I was saying," she momentarily flicked her eyes in the general direction of her left side. "I think it is wonderful to have you back with us again." 

Severus, having regained control of himself, was busily attempting to ignore both the nausea that breakfast was inspiring and the headmaster's intense gaze. After holding out as long as he could Snape rose, careful to avoid touching Minerva's robes, and started the long trek to the dungeon. 

"Severus? A moment if you please." 

'_Drat the old man's caught me.' _"Yes, sir?" 

"Maybe this would be easier if…" At this point all that Albus could manage was to wave a hand in the direction of the corridor and accompany Severus on his way. 

The professors' early departure from breakfast did not go unnoticed at Gryffindor table. 

"What do ya think's up with that?" asked Ron, who felt that it was always advisable to keep at least one eye on Snape whenever he was around. 

"What, Ron?" asked an annoyed Hermione. 

She had been talking to Harry about the importance of actually doing his homework instead of copying from the oldest book he could find. (This idea happened to be straight from Fred and George.) 

"Professor Snape just left, -" 

"So?" interrupted a putout Hermione. 

"So," continued Ron, getting more worked up, "then the Headmaster got up and went with him." 

Not seeing anything to get excited about she pointed out that Professor Snape often left meals early. 

"Yah. But the Headmaster doesn't," countered Harry, picking up Ron's point (and seeing it as a way to get out of the lecture from Hermione.) 

"Well, what do you suggest we do about two professors who skip a meal?" Hermione challenged. 

"Follow them!" said Harry and Ron, in unison. 

"NO!" she cried, as quietly as her horror would permit (they were in the middle of the dinning hall and breakfast after all.)

As Albus walked down the corridor, next to Severus, he lost even more of his nerve and could not think of a suitable opening for the conversation. They both knew it was coming; though neither of them noticed the three figures following them. 

Severus, realizing that he was not going to escape the conversation, stopped suddenly and turned to face a startled Dumbledore. "I have been back to Mungo's as you advised and the tests came back positive," he said with a detached voice. '_There! it's said. Now LEAVE ME ALONE!' _

His sudden revelation caused several different reactions. Ron and Harry's eyes got very large. Hermione's curiosity was piqued. And Albus went very pale. "No," was all he could whisper. 

CHAPTER 2:

*are alternate internal voice*

_'I have to tell him the rest. I owe him that much.'_

_*No, you don't! Giving false hope to him would be cruel, and you **know **it! * _

_'But –' _

_*No! It's worse than cruel to make him hope. * _

_'And as long as I keep it to myself, I'll be the only one suffering. Right?'_

_*Yes! * _

"They- " Severus started, with uncharacteristic uncertainty, but failed to finish with anything more than a harsh laugh. '_I can't lie to him, but I can't tell him the truth. I can't keep this to myself **and** get the time off I need.' _His internal conflict continued.But, feeling another cough coming on, he rushed to continue before it, or his subconscious, won out. "They found an anomaly- actually a whole series of them- and I'm going to see a specialist…" _'I never should have said anything,' _was all he could think seeing the desperate hope glittering in the older man's eyes. Not able to bear his mentor's gaze any longer, he dropped his eyes to the stone floor. As a coughing fit overtook him, Dumbledore guided Severus down the stairs to the privacy of the dungeon.

The three friends exchanged questioning glances. Both boys were surprised when Hermione was the one to urge them forward. "Oh come on!" She whispered, "We all want to know what's up. Besides, its not like we can't just… claim to be early for Potions." At Ron's disbelieving snort she quickly added, "just in case we're caught."

They carefully crept down the granite stairs.

Finally in his classroom Severus shakily made his way to the cold empty fireplace, and spit a wad of black phlegm into its depths. His pet expunge immediately surrounded it and began to dissolve all traces of this latest symptom he had developed. "Albus I-" he began but was suddenly overcome with the lingering nausea from breakfast. '_Oh no. I can't vomit again. I haven't eaten yet-' w_as all he had time to think, he could feel the bile rising in his throat, and leaning once again into the hearth he vomited up a thick black ooze, obviously the same substance as what ever it was he had just coughed up.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked into each other's startled eyes and decided there were things going on that they could get into **serious** trouble over. Backing away from the insufficiently closed door the three silently made their way up to Gryffindor tower.

In the dungeon the great Albus Dumbledore was trying to lie to himself about what he had just seen. The man he regarded as his own son was kneeling in front of an unused fireplace, trying to catch his breath after his ordeal. '_No, Severus, I won't let you go without a fight. You said there was some discrepancy in the test results, and I have to stand by you through this.' _Reaching out he gently placed a comforting hand on Snape's shoulder. He frowned when he received the usual response Severus had when being touched. Instinctively a violent flinch jerked the shoulder free, followed by apologetic eyes begging forgiveness. 

"I'm-" 

"Severus," Albus interrupted, "I understand." His eyes once again became filled with wisdom and compassion. "Just tell me what you can."


	2. Clouded Subjects

As previously mentioned I own none of the persons, places, creatures, or things that you recognize. (J. K. R. does) I do however own Starch, and I will be introducing some of my other "pets" later on. And a **BIG** thank you to my beta reader Sara A.

**THANK YOU!!!**

Chapter 3:

Carefully rising to his feet, Severus closed his eyes (as much to keep from seeing the effects of his next words as to focus on what had happened). He was unnerved. "You sent me to that friend of yours at St. Mungo's. I can't- he ran several tests. He couldn't keep all of them as confidential as we wanted. He had to apply for some sort of permission to run some of them." _'It was stupid to continue the tests I should have just left. Now things are out of control and everyone around me will get hurt. Again.' _He released a breath that sounded more like a hiss.

Albus could sense the battle going on within the silent figure before him. A sudden, unexpected fear began to claw its way up from where he had banished all thoughts of the time **before**. _'It can't be…' _thought the now deeply worried headmaster. '_No! We covered our tracks too well. There was never even a true investigation.' _Dumbledore's thoughts turned to his **accomplice **_'I have to contact Alastor as soon as possible. If he still has connections we might be able to stop this. Before its- NO we will stop it, we **must**.'_

Drawing a deep breath (that ended with a traitorous rattle,) Snape continued in an urgent whisper, "They arrived as I was leaving. Five wizards with** the **question mark on their collars." His voice now held an edge of confused fear, "**Five** of them? They asked for me, **by name**. Why would they want me? Now?" 

Too uncomfortable to continue, the most dreaded professor Hogwarts had ever employed, turned away ashamed of his own fear. Close to panic and unable to ignore the fear radiating from Dumbledore, he made another move that both troubled and reassured his confidant. Silently crossing the room he sat at his desk and began grading the first assignment that this year's First Years had turned in. 

"I will leave you to your work," the words of parting had a question in them, which Severus understood from prior use. 

"Yes," he tried to reassure the older man, "I'll make the appointment."

@--'--,-------

On their way to Gryffindor Tower, silence was strictly observed. 

Hermione was trying to decide which books in the library would most likely have useful information. '_I could start with the diagnostic medical text, but I don't know what other symptoms he might have. Then again I could start with the medically related dark arts section- but that's restricted…'_

Harry's mind was still trying to process the idea that anyone could have that kind of stuff in them. '_How could he still try to show up for breakfast?' _"Mudwump," he muttered to the Fat Lady. 

With a slight tisk at his tone she swung away from the wall to let them pass. Upon entering the common room they didn't head for the warmth of the fireplace. A few queasy sideways glances were all it received. The only other sign that was given that any of them were aware at all of their surroundings was when Hermione slowed long enough to pick up a large throw pillow.

Making their way to the corner by the stairs that lead to the boys' dormitory, they entered a recess that had been invisible before. This was their secret. The room had wards on it that allowed only people who knew it was there to enter. Here in 'The Closet', as they had dubbed it, Harry kept his invisibility cloak and the Marauders' map. Ron kept his second and third emergency stashes of candy. And Hermione had, without the knowledge of the others, hidden her diary. It was a place to share secrets, and plan practical jokes. 

"Ok, we need to talk about this." Harry started their first meeting of the year. 

(The Corsairs had been established at the end of their fourth year. The name was an obvious play on his father's gang, and he had taken the role of group leader, but neither of his friends minded. It kind of made sense.) 

With a great deal of enthusiasm Hermione began telling them of her ideas… "So either way I think we should go to the library on our next study hall," Her suggestion was not well received.

Harry groaned, "I didn't plan to spend my first week back locked up in the library." There was a longer than expected pause then, because Ron did not add his usual disgruntled comments. Two pairs of eyes turned to him but he still seemed too preoccupied to notice. "Ron?" Harry hesitantly spoke. 

Still no response. He seemed to be in deep thought. Or shock. But a slight cough from Hermione brought him out of the stupor he had been in.

"I think we need to get to class," was Ron's first voiced thought since they had left the dungeon. 

"Oh my goodness! Guys we're late for potions!" Hermione shouted. Jumping up off the cushion she had brought in she ran to the picture/door closely followed by Harry and Ron. 

~

"…AND ANOTHER twenty points from Gryffindor for interrupting my class with your silly excuses." Professor Snape was not happy. 

Hermione flushed from running, and embarrassment moved to stand beside Neville at his cauldron, while Harry and Ron took the last available station and set to work. 

As he paced up and down the aisles Snape tried to calm himself. '_Dumbledore will make the announcement when the time is right. Until then I have to contact Starch and see if he can fit me in soon.' _

The rest of the period passed in the same vein. Snape taking points from Gryffindor for Parvatti's sneeze and Harry's having dropped one of his scrolls in the hall. Everyone was left frazzled just trying to survive the double period. As the students scrambled to escape though, Ron paused as he moved past Snape's desk. His friends saw the look he directed at the glowering professor and were reminded of his strange silence earlier. It almost looked as though he was about to say something to Snape, but thinking better of it hurried on with the rest. 

When he was once again alone Severus let go of his internal controls enough to acknowledge the full implications of that look. '_He knows! I must stop him,' _began the chant in his mind. He repeated over and over until he couldn't stand the silence of the dungeons any longer, '_I have to get some time off and contact Starch. I couldn't kill the boy. The Headmaster would **not** like that.' _

_*And you promised not to kill _any _students.* _

'_BLAST! But Dumbledore could keep him quiet. Him and his friends._'

Chapter 4:

After their last class was over Harry and Hermione had planned to confront Ron, both having figured out that he knew more of what had happened than either of them. 

"We have to see the Headmaster guys," Ron beat them to it. 

"Is this about er, Professor Snape?" Hermione hesitated to ask. 

"Yah, I don't know much about it. But from what my father told me," he paused, "it's real serious." 

With that said they went to try and find Dumbledore. As they were leaving the common room however they were met by…

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione brightened. "We were just on our way to see Professor Dumbledore. Do you think he could speak with us, now?" 

Minerva raised an eyebrow at this request. "I was sent by the Headmaster to bring you to see him." Her statement was taken well by everyone - except Ron. He actually paled at it. The four of them walked quickly to the gargoyle that marked the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office. "Ton Tongue Toffee," Minerva grimaced at the latest password Albus had come up with. '_Those Weasleys and their joke shop.' _She led them up the spiraling staircase and paused at the door. 

"Do come in Minerva." They heard the Headmaster's voice from within. 

Upon entering they saw that they were not the only ones who had been invited. 

"Professor Lupin," Harry greeted his favorite teacher with a smile. 

Hermione was silent however, seeing the strange assemblage set off a train of thought in her head. '_Professor Lupin, Professor McGonagall, Harry, Ron, and me. What could possibly involve all of us? Well its obviously to do with Professor Snape's, er, problem. I wish I had time to read those medical books.' _

"I have called you all here to speak with you about something that is of a rather sensitive nature." '_I hope he gets here soon. I can't tell them without his permission. It would destroy his trust in me.' _The Headmaster paused and offered tea to buy some time.

"What is this 'matter' that has brought us all together?" Lupin queried, his curiosity also having been awoken. 

But before Dumbledore could reply there was a soft tap on the door. '_Just one tap._ _It's his habit._' Albus smiled to himself remembering the many times he had almost missed that one soft tap that told him he was needed. "Come in Severus." he said confirming Ron's fears. "Severus please sit down and calm yourself." 

Dumbledore's gentle tone would have been reassuring, if he had been talking to anyone else. But the potion master had never responded to anything like 'everyone else'. So it came as no shock to Albus when this small courtesy caused Snape to begin pacing his office in the same way he did in his classroom. 

"His father," Snape began, his voice had a raspy quality to it, "is in the Ministry. Arthur was a First Year when Professor Cooliage died. He," now a long thin finger pointed at Remus, "will not be affected at all. They," he swung around to indicate Harry and Hermione, "are utterly uninvolved with any of this." He was forced to pause for a breath, and slight cough. 

The Headmaster took the opportunity it provided to interrupt. "Severus, I have called a meeting. Of only the people who **are** directly involved or affected. And I will tell them, under the strictest confidence," he paused and passed his eyes over the group, waiting for each person's nod promising silence, "about the situation, as we know it. Will this be acceptable?"


	3. Counter Measures

Anything that is **not** from the books **is** **mine!** –in this fic- If you recognize it, its probably one of J. K. Rowling's toys. I make NO money off of other peoples' genius or talent. I'm not getting _much_ feedback… But I'm writing for the people who review as well as those of you who don't. So, I hope you all enjoy this next bit. I did. 

Chapter: 5

Snape silently stalked to the farthest corner of the room and slouched into a wingback chair. (His preferred spot when things he wasn't happy with had to be done anyway.) 

Taking this familiar action as a tacit consent Albus continued, "Harry and Hermione, you are both here because I feel that Ron should be able to talk with you about this without breaking his word to me." 

From the corner Snape was paying attention to not just the words spoken but also the reactions to those words. And their implications. '_The Headmaster's right, he would have told them eventually. Now they all have to keep quiet or else they'll break faith with him.'_

Turning reassuring eyes to Ron, Albus continued, "Your father was here when, as Professor Snape has already stated, Professor Phineas Cooliage died. Your father has probably told you some of the story of what happened. Is that right?" At Ron's hesitant nod he gently asked, "Would you please tell us what Arthur told you of that day."

Ron looked nervously around him. The Headmaster's office was really more like a sitting room. Instead of a few chairs in front of a desk, there were mostly couches and settees. A few of these had been pulled up to the table that now held the tea things that had been offered earlier. He could see Snape but the dark fabric of the chair and the shadows in the corner were almost enough to make him disappear. 

It was enough to give Ron the courage to begin his father's old story: "Professor Cooliage was the Potion Master when my father came to school here. Dad says he was a real- er, head of Slytherin too." Ron paled at what he had almost said. '_If Snape **can** read minds like Fred and George say, I'm dead.' _"Uh, well my father said that, I think it was a Friday, Professor Cooliage left class early. Just before he left he started coughing and kind of choking. As he was leaving he threw up this black slime. At least that's what father heard," Ron stopped. 

"Did your father tell you what he heard happened next?" Dumbledore gently prompted. 

"Um, yah. He said that on Monday a substitute was there for potions and at dinner you told everyone that Cooliage had died, of PMR." Ron was sick at his stomach remembering the man in the corner who was watching his every move.

With a slight smile, conveying reassurance to Ron, Albus now turned to Lupin who was sitting on his left. "Remus, would you please tell us what you know of PMR?" 

The calm in his voice had cost him and Minerva noticed. '_He is being too hard on himself over this. Severus must have known- but I have to be strong to help Albus, it'll be like loosing a son to him.' _

Remus Lupin suddenly understood how Ron had felt. '_I can't do this, he's right here. We're talking about him like he can't hear. Or like he's already dead.' _With these thoughts running through his head, he was startled when Harry reached over and nudged him. "Ah… well the um… Defense Against Dark Arts doesn't really cover this," he stalled. Looking to the back corner he could see that Snape had curled up in his chair and was apparently taking a nap. '_Of course he's not asleep. He can hear every word you're saying and he's trying to withdraw from all of this. I sure hope Albus knows what he's doing here.' _Lupin drew a deep breath and in his most boring 'Lecture Voice' began to recite what he knew, "The actual status of Potion Master is achieved through a proven level of skill. The reason that there are so few **accredited** Potion Masters is because it is the only position a wizard can hold that **will** kill him or her. PMR, or Potion Master's Rue, is a malady unique to the status of Potions Master." 

Lupin stood up and turned so that he could face the group but with his back to Snape's corner. Slightly more at ease, he continued. "The potion vapor that the average wizard will inhale over his lifetime does not approach the level of toxicity that a Potion Master breathes. As these fumes are absorbed the average wizard is able to flush them from his system. Potion Masters however by the nature of their job overwhelms their body's natural defenses. This over exposure causes a build up of chemicals in the body. These chemicals are not inert however and eventually a, critical mass, is reached. There is nearly always a violent reaction that is the immediate cause of death. This has become known as **catalyzing**."

Ron gulped and fidgeted a little remembering his father's stories of what had happened to the former Head of Slytherin.

Remus continued, "The initial signs that one is developing PMR are. One, the skin begins production of a dark oily substance that discolors the hair and distorts skin tone. This is because the skin is trying to exude the residual chemical build up through the oil glands. Two, a darkening of the irises. There are a few more minor symptoms and then near the end, things speed up again. Signs that it is reaching the end stage are the production of a thick black phlegm, a loss of appetite, and sensitivity to light. The last symptoms that I am aware of are a blackening of the whites of the eyes and gums." Not able to look anyone in the eye Remus sat back down heavily and lowered his head to his hands. 

Silence hung thick in the air again as everyone tried not to look at Snape who had quietly walked around the group to stand just behind the three Gryffindor students. He soundlessly shook his head and glanced down at the children. 

Albus understood his meaning and turned to Lupin, "Remus what do you know of the experimental drug, Necratonin?"

Looking up from his hands with a startled expression he said, " Only that it's supposed to halt the progression of the disease. But it only works in the latter stages- " Lupin's eyes flew to meet Severus'; the other looked coldly back. His eyes had a slightly marbled look. 

Chapter: 6

_'Now would be a good time for you to send the kiddies to bed, Dumbledore.' _Snape thought as Lupin met his eyes. He could see the moment when Remus recognized the beginning of the end. '_He looks like I'm going to catalyze right now,' _Snape thought with bitter humor. 

The Headmaster quickly interceded almost as though he had heard Severus' unspoken plea. "Severus will be using the drug Necratonin as a means of controlling the effects of the disease. He will also be seeing a specialist about alternative treatments," he said, trying to reassure the children. The Headmaster sought Ron's eyes. Ron nodded; it was all he could do. 

'_The drug is new. Cooliage didn't have it, and Dumbledore says we're safe. Just relax the Headmaster would never allow something to endanger the students. Yah that's why he keeps Snape on the faculty- Breathe!' _Ron took a sudden breath and reddened when everyone turned to him. 

Minerva was now worried about the ability of her three young charges to handle the very weighty matter that had been forced upon them. '_As head of Gryffindor it is my duty to protect them, but… Albus will not be able to make an objective decision about this, he's so fond of that ghoulish bat,'_ she worried as she fought with her own rather unwelcome twinge of fondness. "I believe that it is almost time for curfew. If that is all, I will escort Miss Granger and Misters Potter and Weasley back to Gryffindor tower." Looking to Dumbledore for a signal, she saw only a slight raising of one hand. But she understood the discretionary power she had been given. _'If they ask any more questions of course I would be the one to answer them. What was I expecting? Hermione could come up with some rather delicate questions though. I just hope I have the right answers.' _She fretted as she led them from the room. 

~

Snape saw Albus flinch when Lupin finally broke the tableau that had been created by the departure of most of the room's occupants. 

"Didn't some people die? When old Cooliage…" he voice suddenly faded as he lapsed back into silence. 

There was a pause while Snape took a seat in the circle around the tea table and poured himself a cup. "That's another thing," Remus said with more confidence, "PMR takes a long time to set in. More than just a few years, or even a few decades. You shouldn't be old enough to have it." He had turned to face Severus, but at the unwavering eye contact that was so typical of the Potions Master he was forced to look away. At such close range the shadows in his eyes were too obvious. "How old are you?" Remus asked while looking into his tea. 

"I'm twenty nine," Severus nearly cooed, knowing that it would start a confrontation or maybe, even a fight. 

It did.

"Impossible!" Remus shouted. 

Albus immediately placed a silencing charm on the door then settled back to watch, **The Show**, as he had come to think of it. Over the years he had noticed that Severus liked to bait people into doing what he wanted. Using their own riled tempers against them. '_It almost looks as though he is trying to put Remus off by feeding him pointless but surprising information. If he does the poor soul won't be able to figure out any of tonight's events,' _he mused.

"No it is not _im_possible," Snape countered, sounding almost bored. "You have most of the facts but not the right starting point." At the bewildered look this got from Lupin he continued, "I started my First Year here when I was seven. Seven years to graduation makes me fourteen. Fifteen years as Potions Master adds up to twenty-nine." 

Lupin's eyes flew to Dumbledore's in desperation. "He's lying, he must be," he nearly begged. 

Trying to clear away the confusion that Severus had so skillfully created Albus spoke firmly, "No he is not lying. He is in fact twenty-nine years old." Sitting back in his chair Dumbledore regarded the man before him. Lupin still showed signs of the hard times he had had since leaving his newly reacquired position as the DADA teacher two years ago. '_It was a stoke of good fortune that I was able to reach him in time for the new term,' Dumbledore_ reflected. '_With things developing so fast I need to have everyone close by. Which brings up the question of Sirius… Severus will be less than pleased with what I have to ask of him but I can think of no other way.' _Having mentally painted himself into a corner he took a breath, '_better to just ask him now,' _"Severus, do you still have those extra rooms?" 

Severus narrowed his eyes at the sudden shift in conversation, mistrustful of his elder's intentions. "You mean the guard quarters?" he cautiously asked. 

"The **guest rooms**, yes." Albus had been trying for years to get him to refer to the various dungeon rooms in a more pleasant way. '_How long can he live down there and still think of them as guard quarters? Does he think of some of the other rooms as torture chambers?' _This thought unnerved him a great deal. 

"I think the House Elves maintain them. I wouldn't know though. I never go into that section," Severus' offhanded tone rang warning bells for the Headmaster.

Unable to see what was amiss though he was forced to wait until something developed. "Remus, I would like to have your things moved to one of Severus' spare rooms," Albus informed them both. Blank looks were on both of the pale faces that turned to him, "Also, Sirius Black will be joining the two of you there by tomorrow night." _'I just hope he doesn't take this out on the students,' _Albus wearily thought.

No one noticed that the cheerily burning fire had turned a telltale shade of green. That is, until a letter bearing the seal of the ministry shot out and landed on the table between them. Lupin jumped, Snape dumbly looked down at it. Albus blinked reached toward it and read it. Then read it again. The third time he read it aloud.

~~~ From the Office of the Ministry of Magical Education.

To Albus Dumbledore- Headmaster of Hogwarts School Of Witch craft and Wizardry, 

This letter is to inform you that Hogwarts School Of Witch craft and Wizardry is no longer in compliance with section 5 paragraph 17 article number 31b, the regulations regarding the providing of both male and female heads of house. The legal 'active' status of _the above named institution_ will be revoked barring official extension of no more than one (1) month; you will be forced to discontinue operating in the capacity of an accredited boarding school.

The deadline for application for extension requests is the close of the Ministry workday on the 10th of September of the year 2003~~~

"But that's tomorrow! What in the world does that mean?" Lupin demanded. The day's events had clearly been too much for him. 

"You have to go to London and try to straighten this out," Snape said with a slight note of tension in his voice, "You can't let them close down the school."

"I should leave right now, but how could these new regulations have been passed without my knowledge?" wondered Albus.

"Fudge has had it in for you for the past several years." Snape pointed out, "I would imagine that he was able to strong-arm it through committee and loose your notification letter."

Albus nodded his agreement with this assessment and gathered his things together in preparation for his unexpected departure. "Tell Minerva what is going on and show her the letter," he instructed Snape, "Make sure that Remus gets to the _guestroom_ and meet Sirius when he arrives. I think I've got everything," checking his pockets one last time he moved to the fireplace. 

"Headmaster! I was able to contact that specialist I mentioned." Severus rushed to tell him. "He has an available slot tomorrow night, I know the timing is bad but, if Black gets here in time?"

"Yes, go even if he isn't. Its more important that we get answers to some of these questions than it is that you make sure that Remus has company while he sleeps off the Wolf's Bane Potion," Albus said as he threw Floo powder into the fire and gave the name of the appropriate office. He was quickly whisked from the sight of the two new neighbors. 


	4. Speakeasy

If you can find it in the Harry Potter books 1-4 then I don't own it. If however you can't, it just might be _mine_. Thank you for reading and reviewing I get _very_ excited every time I get an e-mail.   
  
I also need to thank Ashley for substitute beta-ing while Sara A. is off doing… well what ever it is she does. -shrug- THANKS Ashley!

Chapter: 7

"Well, I guess I'd better get my stuff," Lupin said, turning from the hearth. "What did you mean by 'Guardrooms'?" Lupin was more than a little worried about his new quarters.  
  
"I meant Guardrooms," Snape sneered. "It **is** a dungeon." Having said this, he headed for the door to the office and left. Lupin followed, a short way behind. They walked in silence until they reached the corridor.  
  
"Wait here and I'll be right back with my things," Lupin said, sounding rather reluctant.   
  
Instead of answering, Snape crossed the hall and leaned against the wall. Taking this move as his consent, Lupin hurried towards his rooms. Using a short cut that he remembered from his Marauder days, he quickly made his way to his room. In a very short time, he returned to the spot he had left Snape. To his surprise, Snape was still there, leaning back against the wall looking at the floor. As he drew closer Snape shrugged himself off the wall and slowly headed toward the entrance to the dungeon.

  
"You don't look twenty-nine," Lupin remarked conversationally. Receiving only silence, he tried again, "If you're twenty-nine, how come you look so much older? PMR doesn't affect the aging process."  
  
After a long pause Snape spoke. He sounded distracted, like he wasn't thinking about what he said. "I take Plasti-juice."  
  
"Plastijuice? Isn't that like Pollyjuice?" Remus asked, vaguely remembering a lesson that covered form-altering potions, from his seventh year.  
  
"Pollyjuice is for short term use," Snape corrected, still not really paying attention. "For a period of anywhere between a few hours and several days, it's rather harmless," he continued. "With prolonged exposure, though, it will increase your metabolism until you auto-cannibalize to death."  
  
"And Plastijuice?" Lupin prompted, very curious by now.  
  
"It is relatively safe for long term use, but is rarely used because of the side effects."   
  
'_Side effects? He almost sounds like he's had some Veritaserum. Another side affect maybe? Hmmm. This could get interesting!'_ "Side effects, like what?" he casually pressed Snape.   
  
Without glancing at Lupin or showing any other sign that he was knowingly participating in a conversation about himself, Snape recited a list. "Chronic depression, apathy, insomnia, there are a few others, too, I think. I had to take a dose while I waited for you to get your gear."   
  
_'Gear!?' _They had reached the stairs that lead to the dungeon and Remus was forced to fall behind for a moment while he organized his trunk and two bags for the trip down. This also gave him a moment to absorb what he had just heard._ 'He must have been on it for a long time, 'cause I don't remember him suddenly looking different. Could he have started it slowly enough that the change would go unnoticed?'_ He halted as a new possibility occurred to him, '_Or could he have started while we were in school? Well, the way he's been acting, I guess I could just try asking.'_   
  
He hurried to catch up with Snape. "So," Lupin said, trying to keep his voice calm and neutral. "How long have you been taking this Plastijuice?"  
  
Having reached the bottom of the stairs, Snape took a left that Remus would have sworn hadn't been there the last time he'd been in the dungeon. They walked for a few minutes before reaching a 'T' intersection. Looking first left then right, Snape turned back to the left.  
  
As he started walking again he answered Lupin without any inflection, "I started it a week before I came here.... Your door should be around here, somewhere..." Severus muttered into the dark corridor.   
  
Just then a house elf came bustling down the hall and, because of the huge pile of linen she was carrying, almost plowed right into Snape.  
  
"You were sent to clean and prepare the guard rooms correct?" He demanded of the overloaded elf.   
  
"Oh! Yes, sir, I was, sir. By the Headmaster his self, sir!" she gushed, obviously realizing that Snape would not be pleased with the changes taking place. "Otherwise, I would never have shooed that nasty Bogart out of the bureau. I cleaned both sets of rooms, just like Master Dumbledore said I was to. I know-"   
  
"Good enough, Fenny," Snape interrupted her. "You can show him to his room."   
  
Having said this, he headed back toward the dungeon's main hall and was soon swallowed up by the shadows.  
  
"Sir? If Master Professor Lupin would follow Fenny, she will show him to his new quarters."  
  
She then took off back down the way she had labored with the old bedding. A short way from the point that they had met up, she stopped and nodded her head at a blank wall.   
  
"Your door opens if you say 'Hopper-scotch' but you won't see it, sir. It just lets you pass through."   
  
"Thank you, Fenny, was it? I can get my stuff set up on my own. Goodnight," he dismissed her before she could become too obsequious. As he once again gathered his meager luggage and drew out his wand to activate the door he muttered to himself. "Couldn't even see me to my room? This is a great way to start things off."   
  
"Sir?" Fenny's voice quivered with emotion in the dark behind him. 

"Yes, Fenny?" he turned to face the little house elf and was surprised to see, not fear but, anger in her large eyes.   
  
"Master Snape, you should not be saying bad of him. You don't know how" she squeaked in horror at what she had been saying and ran from sight.  
  
With more than enough to occupy his mind, Remus Lupin moved into the Dungeons, one night before the full moon. 

  
Chapter: 8 @--'---,---------

_'Lupin, Black, and myself.' _Snape thought leaning on the wall across from the gargoyle that marked the Headmaster's office waiting for Lupin to return with his meager possessions. _'He's contacting Moody. He just told everyone that I would be starting Necratonin, but it's incompatible with the Plastijuice. What is the fool thinking? Well, he's obviously calling the senior members of the resistance together, but why? And why put Lupin and Black under my watch?'   
  
_He paused in his thoughts for a moment as a nearby clock struck six-o'clock. Without thinking (he had been doing it for so long it no longer required thought) he reached for the pocket in his shirt that held the serum. 

Keeping it in his shirt kept it warm enough that it stayed active longer than it would have in a robe pocket, or on a shelf. A murmured spell released the stopper, and he swallowed a small amount of the blood red fluid. Reinserting the stopper and resealing it, he put it away for another six hours.   
  
Leaning against the wall for support now, he let his head droop as he felt the drug start to take effect. He could feel it clouding his senses and mind as it worked its way into his bloodstream. When Lupin finally returned, Snape had trouble understanding what he said. Unable to maintain focus on what Lupin was asking him **and** keep on course to the 'guest rooms,' he answered more candidly than he normally would have.   
  
After bumping (almost) into Fenny in the hall, he hurriedly passed Lupin on to her and headed back upstairs to finish the last of Albus' commands for the night.   
  
'_I just need to make it to McGonagall's quarters, give her the letter, and tell her that Dumbledore's already gone to sort it out. Then I can find a nice deep hole and not come out till morning.'_   
  
Having finished this line of thought, he looked around at his surroundings, and found that he had made it to the concealed door to McGonagall's room. Having a great deal of trouble focusing enough to remember her password he gave up and knocked on the bronze sculpture. _'A lion, typical. Gryffindors never were big on subtlety,'_ he thought with a shade of disdain.  
  
Minerva quickly answered the unusual summons. She had clearly been expecting a visitor, but was surprised to find Snape at her door. Looking at him more closely, she was able to see a lack of focus in his eyes and relaxed somewhat recognizing the effects of the Plasti-juice. '_He must have had urgent business to send Severus instead of coming himself.' _"What is it that you wish Severus?" she asked solicitously.   
  
"I **wish** to hide in a hole until morning. First, I have to give you this, though." He handed her the letter that had caused so much trouble already and watched as she read it. His concentration wandered as she started reading it again. By the time she ushered him into her sitting room, he was once again lost in a familiar fog.   
  
"- the school?" Minerva asked. She waited for a response. Finally looking up she noticed that he was looking at the air in front of the fireplace. She had long ago found that the best way to get his attention, was to do what Albus did at times like these. Gently she placed a hand on his upper arm. He immediately snapped back to attention and stepped out of her reach.   
  
"I don't know, he seamed to think so. He left immediately to see if things could be recovered." He answered without thinking. Looking at her he could tell that whatever he had said had upset her, but he was unable to remember what he had just said. 

These particular side effects didn't last long, only about half an hour, but they were rather strong, and he was loosing the battle to stay awake.   
  
Minerva saw him sway on his feet and, deciding that she would get more out of him after he slept off the initial effects of the Plasti-juice, she sent him to get some rest.  
  
Without being able to remember how, Snape found that he had made it to his private chambers and was standing beside his bed. Sluggishly, he stripped off the robe he had been wearing all day and lay across the large four-poster bed still clothed in his rather Victorian shirt and pants. Sleep claimed him quickly, as it always did when the serum was still diffusing into his system. It also (as usual) didn't last long. Twenty minutes later he woke, not quite rested, but not able to sleep any longer either. 

Still, several hours from the start of first period (Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff third year), he headed to his private lab. His private lab was in one of the most unreachable sections of the dungeon. The room had been chosen because of its inaccessibility. It wouldn't do to have a student on a dare come tripping across the supply lab for the resistance.   
  
_'Brewing the industrial volumes of medical potions they ask for is probably what did it.'_ he thought, not without a bit of self-directed malice. Snape set to work, filling the most recent order that he had been given.


	5. A Thin Disguise

I don't own any of the cannon characters. Anything that isn't canon, is probably mine.

Thanks for beta-ing this one Ashley!

-Chapter Nine:

Six O'clock came around and after sleeping off the day's second dose of Plasti-juice Snape headed over to check on Lupin. Passing the door to his classroom he took the hidden right and finding the wall panel that marked Lupin's new quarters he activated the chime that announced visitors.

_'I can't believe the Headmaster insisted on a door chime.' _Snape rolled his eyes in disgust.

Lupin groggily answered the unfamiliar chime and prying his eyes open a little more identified the disturber of his slumber.

"What do you want at this hour?" Lupin asked gruffly. 

With a slight twitch of his lips that was not quite a smile Snape informed him that it was six-thirty. 

The unrelenting call of the waxing moon combined with the early hour to rob him of speech. Lupin stared dumbly at him for a moment before blinking and turning to consult his wall clock. It was in fact six-thirty.

"You did not have time last night to get your material ready for today. As you usually do a good deal of class prep I thought you might like to start the day earlier than you normally do." Snape calmly explained. 

This courtesy earned him a shocked stare from the now wide-awake DADA instructor. Snape's robe billowed as he turned and left Lupin to wonder about his motives. 

He entered his own classroom and, sitting behind his desk, continued to write terse diatribes on each scroll that had been turned in late. First-Years learned quickly that deadlines were strictly observed in potions. Snape paused to listen as Lupin hurriedly made his way up the main stair.

_'Must have forgotten that there aren't any nice sunrises to wake him up down here,' _he almost grinned at the thought.

_'Werewolves are too influenced by their surroundings. It was a bad idea to put him down here. And then to add Black?! But there is no point in second guessing him,' _Snape sighed and went back to work.

_*You learned that one the hard way, * _he reminded himself.

The rest of the day continued in a slow parade of thoughtless children who insisted on acting as though it were his fault they didn't measure properly or stir in the right direction. 

As usual he skipped lunch and instead locking his door slept in his office. He was suddenly woken from his drug-induced sleep by a searing pain in his left arm. As the pain cleared the fog from his brain Snape recognized the summons from the Dark Lord.

_'Damn, he has to pick now to call me?' _he thought still feeling the Plasti-juice strong in his system. 

With no classes until late afternoon he decided that it would be better to answer than not.

_'He probably knows my work schedule anyway,' _he reasoned.

Heading down the corridor toward his living quarters Snape stumbled slightly and put a steadying hand on the wall. Finally in his sitting room he paused to unclench his aching fist. The mark felt like a hot coal on his skin. 

Flexing the muscles of his arm helped some, if he kept it up. The sheer intensity of the pain however made it hard to focus on keeping his fist moving. Gathering his Death Eater mask and a silk cloak he prepared his mind as best he could for the coming trial.

_'He knows I was tested,' _Snape thought, _'He'll want to know the results. I can't tell the Dark Lord that the tests were inconclusive. But I also can't tell him about Starch.'_

Silently he passed by the door to the Great Hall. The meal was not quite over and a few late owls were still arriving. As he moved past the open double doors he caught a brief glimpse of children eating, talking, and acting somewhat rowdier than they would have if the Headmaster had been present. He also saw a few owls circling in the air above them. 

One particular grey owl also noticed him. It shot through into the main hall and caught up with him as he reached the outside doors. Darting forward it landed on the Potion Master's outstretched arm as he reached for the door handle.

A rather startled Snape took the letter from the courier owl's beak and, opening the door watched as it flew off into the lead colored sky.

_'Its going to rain,' _he noticed, _' it'll be my luck that the meeting is held outside.' _

_'Maybe I'll be able to get pneumonia,'_ he thought with a mild note of sarcasm,_ 'if I don't treat it, theoretically I could die of it.' _

Still clutching the unexpected letter he passed through the gates and entered the "free zone". Preparing to apperate he stuffed the letter into his robe, threw on the cloak and drawing his wand disapperated as the air was rent by a deafening crash of thunder. 

-Chapter: 10 

The dark sky and poor lighting combined to make it very difficult indeed to see exactly what was going on. Basically this was the desired effect. There were very few people who were twisted enough to _want_ to see what was going on around them at a 'Dark Revel'.

_'But then healthily minded people don't attend them.' _He reminded himself.

_'Or, if they do,' _he amended as a feeble cry broke a momentary lull, '_they're the floor show.' _

Before joining the others he slipped on the Dark Mask. He now looked like everyone else in attendance. Black being the dominant color, and every face hidden by the smoky colored, shifting pattern of the masks. It was easy to feel anonymous, too easy. 

He knew that many eyes were drawn to him because of his cape. Having a dampening effect on magic made silk an unusual choice. It not only gave away his identity it advertised that he was very powerful.

"Still the only one with such bad taste that he comes late to hide it." Lucious Malfoy's voice was unmistakable as he laughed with the few others who dared.

"Have a care Lucious," Snape murmured just loud enough to be heard by the attentive ears of those who were following the exchange.

Then with an air of bored indifference he added, "One could get the impression that you felt that I tolerated insolence." 

This veiled threat drained the color from Malfoy's face and started several people whispering. Snape turned and began mingling with the few of high enough rank to warrant his notice. 

Because of his unusually strong 'core magic' he had been promoted swiftly through the ranks and was, at the time of _his_ _fall_, a member of the inner circle. 

Known as The Fates, they were an elite group. Only the most powerful of The Master's most loyal followers were even considered for the honor. It was generally assumed that none of The Fates had fallen from favor since _his_ return.

A black shrouded figure nervously skittered up to Snape.

"Sir," he nodded to the Master's new 'right hand'.

"Master would speak with you, now." the 'Voice of Darkness' rasped.

_'How can such a shallow person have so many titles in an organization so riddled with back stabbers and traitors?' _Snape thought, not for the first time, as he made his way through the throng.

Keeping the required number of steps behind his superior, he followed Wormtail to a private chamber. The door swung open at a touch from the silver hand and Snape found himself mask to face with Voldemort.

"My Lord," he murmured and knelt at the feet of the most feared man in the world.

All he could think about though was how he would tell said man that his favorite pet was dying, and the amount of time left until his appointment with Starch.

'_I need to tell him. If he brings it up I'll be on the defensive trying to explain why I was hiding it. But then I don't have enough information to make a satisfactory report'_

_*At least the meeting is indoors, *_ that nasty little inner voice laughed.

Feeling a hand rest momentarily on his head Snape waited for the command to rise.

"Leave us Wormtail." 

"Yes my Master."

The door opened and shut. They were alone. 

_'Probably not a good thing.' _the kneeling figure thought.

"Rise Severus, and remove your mask. You have many things to tell me of." It was not a question.

Pushing back his hood and taking off the mask slowly, Snape tried to buy time to think. 

"You have been observed," the Dark Lord spoke suddenly.

"Master?" was all he could think to say.

The conversation was _not_ starting well.

"There was a small party of Aurors watching as you left the gates of the school." Voldemort wheezed. 

Voldemort's reconstructed body had blended a little too freely with the snake. He not only hissed and wheezed when speaking, he also had a tendency to flick his tongue when being lied to. It didn't happen often. 

"I was not followed." 

The certainty with which the words were spoken was largely owed to long years of acting sure, even when in doubt. It never paid to show doubt to a Death Eater. Or fear.

"No, you were not," Voldemort was still standing very close. His rubicund eyes slowly passed over every centimeter of Snape's body. His attention taking in even the slight crackle of Snape's breath.

"I have been able to determine the reason why they were waiting for you," he paused to watch the effect of his words. Seeing that Snape had no idea what to make of this he continued. "You were tested at Saint Mungo's…"

Snape's eyes opened slightly wider at this confirmation of his earlier fear. "I have inconclusively tested positive for Potion Master's Rue."

At the raising of an eye-ridge (Voldemort no longer had eye_brows_) Snape explained as best he could. "The Headmaster," Voldemort's eyes slitted at the use of the title but he did not interrupt, "arranged for me to see a medi-wizard he knows. I think that the Ministry was alerted when he applied for permission to perform a second round of tests." Gathering his nerve Snape finished, "I have no idea why they took an interest in it, or me, though."

"What did this 'second round of tests' involve? Ex-sss-actly." 

"It was just a rather extensive round of blood work, Master."

The gleam of triumph in the ruby eyes was eloquent. Snape was beginning to feel that something very wrong had already happened. 


	6. Might Work

This chapter picks up _right_ after the previous chapter. You might even want to re-read the last little bit of it just get the dialogue fresh in your mind. I have not been making any money off of or from the gibbering that you will find below. The original stuff (not cannon) is mine. The familiar stuff (cannon) is J. K. Rowling's.

Chapter Six:

"Then my information was accurate." The Dark Lord sounded pleased.

He motioned to a chair and it obediently drew its self across the stone floor and came to rest behind him. He had naturally chosen the most ornate chair, but when he was seated he allowed Snape to summon himself a chair. Imperceptibly shifting a hand Snape called one of the chairs to him. It moved to stand before the empty fireplace and turned to face, a little on the diagonal, Lord Voldemort.

These private meetings had been routine before 'the fall', but to have them resumed so casually was not exactly in line with Snape's Ideal Scenario Number One.

Ideal Scenario Number One involved a long dead Voldemort, disbanded Death Eaters and a clean soul. Ideal scenario number two, a somewhat less than perfect version of number one, involved minimally organized Death Eaters and a weakened Voldemort, who would be easily defeated, plus some sort of personal atonement.

_'It looks like Worst Case Scenario Number One,' _Snape thought darkly.

He could feel his pulse slow and his breathing become deep and even, as he settled into an old pattern of behavior. Had he been hooked up to a muggle lie detector, he could have claimed to be the lost princess Anastasia and not set off any alarms. The years of 'waiting' had not diminished his ability to hide his thoughts and emotions. Plus the recent dose of Plasti-juice, which helped a great deal.

'_Just because he didn't use his wand to summon the chair doesn't mean he's at full strength again_.'

It was a pitiful attempt at self-delusion.

"I once told you of the deception that Muggle loving fool Dumbledore was guilty of." Voldemort had managed to find another opening line that sent Snape reeling.

"Yes Master." He replied his tone automatically void of emotion.

'_Like I'm supposed to have forgotten why I turned against him in the first place?'_

He's obviously not just reminiscing

_'But why bring up such a –'_

_What? You've never known him to string someone along until they gave themselves away? _

"The two, are related," he stated. A question could be a suicidal move, but a carefully worded statement could get information.

Voldemort's Mouth twisted into a sadistic version of a smile of approval. "Ss-everu-ss," he purred, "I am pleased to find that time has not taken your loyalty **or** your, boldness. You will need both for the task I have set for you."

The use of his first name was an old device designed to work two ways. It was a constant reminder of the past, as well as a gesture of intimacy meant to strengthen bonds. It had never truly stopped working.

So desperate to belong, as a child, Severus had accepted a twisted form of codependence in place of nothing, _and nothing is all that ever came… _

_'The strange thing is,'_ Snape lashed back,_ 'they both need me, to get to each other._' He dropped his eyes as he spoke to the Dark Lord. "I will serve you without fail, as always Master, I-" Snape's smooth reply was choked off as black sludge blocked his airway, causing him to choke on a cough. 'S_itting by the hearth just incase such a **catastrophe** like this happened was a good idea.' _Snape almost laughed,_ 'At least I'm sure of not throwing-up on his shoes.'_

There was a look close to actual concern on the Dark Lord's face as he watched Snape, coughing, fall to the floor and crawl toward the fireplace.

Voldemort remained seated as long as he could, trying to hold his composure. _'I can't loose you now Severus!' _the sudden, intensity of his panic drove him to act before he thought. As Snape continued to cough and spit Voldemort rose, took a few steps closer and kneeling next to him, brushed the hair back from Snape's eyes and tucked it behind his ear. "Severus," he whispered, "why did you not tell me it had progressed so far?"

Not comfortable having anyone so close, but too weak to push away, Snape focused on breathing between the heaves that had replaced the coughing.

The physical contact it's self was not new. Over the years they had developed a sort of unhealthy closeness based on desperation and deception. Snape needed a father figure after Dumbledore had fallen from his pedestal. Voldemort carefully positioned himself to fill that void –the void he himself had created. At some point though, Voldemort had become ensnared in his own illusion, growing to care for Snape almost like a father would his son.

Leaning into the fireplace to spit a final time, Snape caught his breath before answering. "I have an appointment to see a, specialist, tonight –" Snape suddenly collapsed as waves of fatigue dizziness and finally oblivion swept over him.

Looking into Severus' eyes to make sure that he was coming-to, unharmed, Voldemort released a hiss of relief as the other man's black eyes flickered open.

_'Red?' _was Snape's first thought on waking. As he continued to surface from the formless dark that had surrounded him, he found himself completely helpless and lying on the floor…with his head in the Dark Lord's lap. It was not something Snape expected to awaken to.

Calmly he sat up and Voldemort resumed his seat.

Being calm in the presence of unexpected evil had been one of the first skills he had developed as a new recruit, at the age of fifteen –the fact that, thanks to the Plasti-juice, he had also been twelve was one of the first things he'd confessed to his new Master.

Slowly, Snape rose and sat back down in his own chair.

After a long silence Voldemort spoke. "Ss-everu-ss, you are sure this 'specialist' can be trusted? The ministry is already watching you."

"Master," Snape's voice faltered, taking a few breaths he tried again, "I will carry out your orders, you have only to give a command."

Voldemort blinked his eyes in shock, '_He just ignored a direct question. Now he is trying to behave as thougth he did not just faint. Could he have progressed so far that **It** is strong enough, now, to reject the fusion…?' _

As Albus entered the house he ignored the usual polite convention. "Alastor, this is a thing best kept in the closet."

Alastor Moody merely closed the front door and led the way to a smallish room that he had personally spy-proofed, it was also warded with secrecy and concealment charms, some of which he had created himself. Seated in the private room and sipping tea, Alastor –with uncharacteristic tact– waited for his friend to start the conversation.

"We need to reactivate the Alicorn Warriors," Albus announced, softly.

Moody set down his cup and took a moment to really look at Albus. _'His hands are shaking,' _he also noticed, with alarm, that the usually 'merry' Headmaster was looking drawn and tired. "So," he paused for a moment, "you have decided to fight again?"

"We have no choice." Albus grit his teeth for a brief instant. "Fudge is ignoring the recent Death Eater attacks, claiming that they are just a, '…sign of the degeneration of society….' Meanwhile he is turning a blind eye to the evidence of Voldemort's return. Severus was right, he is a _fool_." Albus nearly spat the last word. "Now Fudge is trying to shut down the school!" Calming himself, he continued, "That is what brought me into London last night," wearily he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

"Speaking of Severus…" Alastor said, shifting the conversation back to issues that needed to be discussed, and leaving Fudge for another less hurried conversation. _'Preferably one with a few shots of whisky,' _he thought. "I have heard rumors that Snape is not doing well."

"Then," Albus perked up a bit, "you still have contacts within the ministry?"

"Of course I do." Moody snorted. "And they have been whispering rumors of PMR. Is it true? Has he been diagnosed with it?" His voice had risen, slightly, with a note of urgency.

He watched as Albus' expression became filled with pain. He needed no other answer.

"Is he getting a second opinion?" Alastor asked.

"Yes. Tonight in fact." Albus answered, then followed with a question of his own. "You sound rather concerned. Do you think it's the same thing that Severa is going through?"

"She was able to get an appointment last week, the results aren't back yet. We won't know what it is for another three weeks. That's all I know." Moody ended with a frustrated sigh. Seeing the incredulous look Albus sent him though, he grumbled, "This mysterious specialist she saw takes only night appointments and chooses whom he will treat. She wouldn't tell me anything else about him."

Albus nodded in understanding, with a slight laugh he added, "I think they are seeing the same doctor, Severus has a similarly mysterious appointment." Setting aside his cold tea Dumbledore began on a slightly less difficult topic. "I received a letter from the ministry, it was very late arriving. Basically it stated that the school would be shut down unless I came into compliance with some new regulation that I haven't heard of. I think we may be able to use it to solve several of our problems."

Alastor shook his head, "This conversation is getting too convoluted for me. What problems are they claiming that _closing_the school would _solve_!"

Albus ignored him. "The regulation they cited concerns the hiring of co-ed co-Heads of House. From the meetings that I managed to get this morning I have been able to arrange for a grace period of one month. That's one month in which I must find four people to co-head the houses of Hogwarts, They must not only sort into the appropriate House they also need to be the opposite sex of the Heads of House that I already have."

Hope began to creep across Moody's face at Albus' words.

"I will obviously need someone who is a Slytherin, and female."

Alastor challenged, "And you think that getting those two together again would work?"

"I hadn't thought of it in quite _that_ way." Albus hesitated. "Do you think there could be trouble?"

"Yes." Alastor shrugged. "But, we face more trouble with them apart _and_ the ministry looking into things."

"Agreed," Albus reluctantly got to his feet, "I must return to the ministry. I have a meeting with the Under Minister of Education at two o'clock."

"You should think about sending an owl to warn Severus that we are going to call the senior members of The Order to meet soon." Moody offered by way of parting. "I don't think it's the kind of thing he would appreciate being surprised by."

"You're right, of course, I will send him a note on the way to my meeting. He should be just about over the harsher effects of the Plasti-juice by now."


	7. Gathering Pawns

I am not J. K. R. and so I am not profiting from her work. I am however trying to beta my own stuff so, tell me if I've made any mistakes.

Chapter Thirteen:

The corridors of Durmstrang were absolutely silent. This was not due to any sort of cute little charm, it was due to fear. The thousand or so students that called Durmstrang 'home' did so because it was tradition.

_'Things weren't always this bad,' _thought the lone figure that swept through the central hall, cloak flaring wide and hood drawn. _'It's only been the past few years that things have gotten this…'_

_*Oppressively, dark?*_

_'Yah.'_

Reaching the staff room the cloaked figure lowered her hood and entered. The few faculty members who were already there looked up from their various amusements long enough to identify her. With her hood off, her oily shoulder length black hair hung in her obsidian black eyes. She was by far the youngest member of the faculty. After hexing the hormones out of half the male staff, she had been left alone. Going straight to her favorite writing desk, in the back corner furthest from the fireplace and, tucking her bangs behind her ear, she opened the letter that had just arrived. 

~~~My Dearest, my one and only treasure, Severa,

She choked back a laugh at the endearment. Extravagant openings to their letters were part of the game they played since she had moved so far away. 

I have just been speaking with my old friend Albus Dumbledore, from Hogwarts.

_'As though I don't recognize the man's name. You've been telling me about him for years,' _she puffed at the hair that had fallen into her eyes, and continued.

He has just told me that there is a position about to become available, in the potions department.

Her eyebrows rose, _'I thought Snape was heading potions for them.'_

_*You don't think they could have let him go, do you?*_

_'From what I've heard Snape's turned out to be a genius at what he does, Dumbledore would have to be mad to let him go.'_

I would like to see you get it. Before you start to write your resignation though, there is one thing you should know. Snape is still there, the position that has opened up is for an assistant. Now I know that it would be a huge sacrifice on your part, but I also know I would sleep better with you in the country now that **he** has returned.

Please think over what I have said, but remember, what ever you choose I will support you. I could not have sent you to attend Durmstrang and then allowed you to seek a professorship there, if I did not have the utmost confidence in your ability to er, protect yourself.

Moody~~~

'Well now, I guess…'

_*You've got to. Its Hogwarts! Even if it is the most demeaning placement he could ask you to fill. It's your dream.*_

'But to be an assistant? The only thing worse would be if he wanted me as an apprentice!'

_*Then be thankful.*_

Shaking the internal conflict from her mind Severa closed her eyes and sought the still small voice that would give her the answer she needed.

_'I need to know what is best to do now, for all of us.'_

After a few moments of silent waiting, she felt a sense of peace about the coming changes. With confidence she reached for the quill and parchment that she kept at 'her' table. _'It can be a very good thing, being ignored. They would probably lynch me for writing to Alastor, without sending a copy on to **him,**' _she grinned.

~~~My Doting and ever watchful Guardian,

She opened in an attempt to one-up him.

I would not have you pulling any strings on my behalf. I want that perfectly clear up front. That having been said, I will apply for the position of assistant as you suggested. 

One thing troubles me though. Do you think he'll have me back after the way we parted? He was not pleased that I agreed to go to Durmstrang.

Imagining the laugh he would have on that particular understatement, she smiled and closed the short missive as she always had,

Moody2~~~

Chapter Fourteen:

"Severus, you should go back to the school now. Your next class starts soon and you will need to get cleaned up." The Dark Lord's tone was cold.

Seeing that he was about to protest Voldemort cut him off, "I shall contact you later about the assignment. For now, I want you to isolate what it is that is causing you these, problems."

"Yes, Master," Snape was entirely compliant once again.

These shifts in mood worried him, but Voldemort said nothing. Trusting that with proper diagnosis and treatment his pet would be well again. He watched as Snape replaced his mask, drew up his hood, bowed low and awaited formal dismissal. 

(Even though Voldemort preferred to have a more casual relationship, Snape always followed protocol. He claimed that it ensured that there would be no lapses when there were others around.) 

His voice was like the scratching of dry leaves, as he again placed his hand on Severus' head, "Go, and do my bidding."

Now formally dismissed Snape stood and left the room. His silken cape and indifferent air a mask far more effective than the one that covered his face.

_'I'll just bet Lucius is hoping to see me cowed.' _

*_ Ha! Yah, you'll show him alright.*_

Nearly everyone close enough to see him, was trying to discern by his stride and apparent composure, whether things had gone well or ill for him. (Most hoped for the later.) He slowly walked back into the center of the room and began to mingle for a few minutes. 

Having made the 'strategic' social connections and silently reassuring everyone that **yes **he was still on top, Snape moved to a deeply shadowed alcove. Keeping in mind the warning he had received from Voldemort, Snape apparated to an unlit alley that he occasionally used for these kinds of situations.

_*Not that you've ever had the ministry hot for you before, *_ his subconscious snapped.

"What in the-?!" he blurted as the world coalesced around him once again.

It was raining, hard.

Removing his mask and tucking it away, he found that he had already put something in to the hidden pocket. Curious he pulled out an unopened letter and casually made his way to a dim street lamp at the corner. Flipping over the envelope to see if he could make out the seal he was surprised to recognize it as the Headmaster's personal mark. Managing a subtle glance up the street toward the school's gates, he was easily able to spot the 'stumbling drunk,' a.k.a. Department of Secrets' agent, that had been assigned to watch for his return. Making for a secret entrance (Hogwarts had several) he eluded said agent's bleary, watchful eye.

In the safety of the hidden passageway Snape, once again, drew out the letter and, leaning against the stone wall, lit his wand and began to read. Reaching the end of the note he slid down the wall and sat heavily on the floor.

"Oh god." _'The Headmaster's wrong I can't handle all of this,'_ closing his eyes he curled himself into a tight ball. 

Several minutes passed before rising to his feet, Snape silently made his way to his private rooms. After washing his face and changing to a more appropriate cloak, he hurried to his classroom.

_*Wonderful! you endanger the entire resistance movement, nearly give yourself, **gift-wrapped no less**, to the Secrets Agent at the front gate. Now you're cutting it too close getting to class-*_

Having reached the right door he stepped in and froze.

_'I'm **late!**' _Twenty pairs of eyes looked back at him, waiting for the coming storm to break.

Though his face remained devoid of emotion, inside he was reeling, _'I can't handle this right now.'_

Clearing his throat, *_As though you need to get their attention. Ha!*_ he strode forward. Turning to face the class he casually leaned back against his desk, crossed his arms over his chest, and arched one eyebrow.

"I should think that Seventh Year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs could begin taking notes, without the aide of, adult, supervision," he said, disdain practically dripping from his lips. 

He paused and watched, as the tension of waiting for him to continue became too much for first one student, and then another. One by one, they began to defensively huddle into their robes, a few even began to sweat. 

"Or do you need me to remind you that you were unable to successfully complete your assigned work last class?"

When class was finally over, to the utter amazement of the pupils, the first one out the door was Snape. As the clock struck the hour he flew from the class. The heavy solid oak door was thrust out of his way with enough force to send it banging against the wall. 

The first students to leave cautiously peered out into the hallway before running up the stairs and finally escaping into the 'safe' aboveground portion of the school.


	8. 15cm Equals 6in

I'm still betaing my own blithering work. I still don't own the property of J. K. R, and she hasn't made any offers for the rights to my stuff, so there. Uhm… From here on in things will get rather, ah, odd. You are now entering the part that is _mostly_ mine. (this a link to one of Sunna's pics like I promised http:// www .side7. com /cgi-bin /S7SDB /DisplayImg .pl? INO=249849)

Chapter Fifteen:

The walk to Lupin's room was not nearly long enough to calm him. As he approached the charmed wall panel he slowed his pace and took several 'calming' breathes.

A few seconds after the barely audible chime had sounded Snape remembered that Lupin would not have had time to reach the dungeons yet, let alone his new quarters. 

By the time Lupin arrived he had finished pacing and was leaning against the wall beside the door. 

"I have a new theory to try, but if it doesn't work I need time to make your usual. So drop your stuff and lets get going." He announced without looking up.

"Thanks, my day was terrible, and you are in desperate need of a shower," Lupin shot back wrinkling his sensitive nose.

Lupin sighed and closed his eyes; they had come to a tenuous understanding before he had left the school. Basically it went, Snape did his job and Lupin drank or ate or inhaled whatever he was given. But Snape's rather brutal bedside manner was difficult to handle this close to the full moon. 

As he brushed past he noticed that Snape stilled for the moment that it took him to give his password and enter his room.

_'He is so messed up!' _Lupin fumed._ 'Why should he get so tense about being near to me? He's been treating me for two years now. And why is it that I expect him to act normal when HE IS SO MESSED UP?!' _but it did bug him, _'You'd think he'd be more comfortable with my being a Werewolf. It's like he's getting more, oh I don't know, freaky? As time, goes, by…'_ An idea came to him, _'I should go to the library and look up exactly what PMR does to a person, this might be a symptom. Nah,' _he snorted rejecting the thought, _'he's always been this way.'_

After storming around his living room for several minutes he set the piles of uncorrected work he had been carrying, on his table. Changing to a well-worn robe he sighed, _'No sense in ruining one of the good ones.' _With a last glance at the scrolls, '_I won't be able to get to them till, well maybe Friday.' _He moved to the door. Pushing it open he glanced down for an instant-

"Get your work," Snape quietly spoke into his ear.

With a yelp Lupin jerked back, "What?!" 

Snape had not moved from his place beside the door and as it opened he had meant to merely stop Lupin before he had closed it. _'What is he so jumpy about?' _

_*We are way too close!* _Snape looked away and took more slow deep breathes, _*Not a good idea_. _The air in the corridor is so still that Lupin's scent is going to make me choke,_ * he reflexively licked his lips.

"Don't do that," Lupin nearly shouted, once his heart was back in his chest, "and what's with the heavy breathing?"

"Just get your work and let's get out of here," he ground between his teeth.

"My work why? I won't be able to correct any of the papers until I'm rested again." 

Looking up at the ceiling Snape pulled an acidic grin, "I am qualified to teach Defense, even if no one cares. The Headmaster assigned you these rooms for more than just their aesthetic value. He wanted to make sure that I could, fill the gap." Turning back to Lupin he attempted a more civil tone, "Could we please hurry along now?"

With a nod he headed back into his living room and gathered up the scrolls he had just put down. Back in the hall he made as though to hand them to Snape. But Snape turned and headed in the direction of the lab with out a glance at Lupin.

"What's the rush? It's only three thirty the sun won't set for hours."

"I am glad to find that the inhibitor I worked so hard on has given you enough relief from the effects of the moon that you were able to attend to your class. But I would appreciate your not asking anymore stupid questions." He did not sound glad or appreciative.

Lupin held his tongue until they got to Snape's private lab. 

When they entered Snape motioned toward a long table that was pushed against the left-hand wall, "Put those over there, and get on the slab."

Placing the scrolls on the table as asked Lupin took a moment to look around at the now familiar contents of the room. Each wall had at least one table running along it, and several wall sconces had been strategically placed above them. The tables in the middle of the room gave it the feel of a large maze and the air was almost cold enough to show his breath. Open parchments and experiments in mid-completion were on every available surface, except one. The Slab, as Snape referred to it, was a sort of examining table with extras. Channels running the entire length funneled fluids toward a drain at the foot, and adjustable restraints were set at head, chest, wrist, thigh, and ankle.

As he removed his robe Lupin shuddered remembering the first time he had been strapped down. To be at another's complete mercy was bad, the fact that it was Snape made it infinitely worse. With only his boxers on goosebumps pricked over his skin.

Lying on the freezing cold metal table, staring up at the lights, he shivered again. 

Snape had been gathering things and arranging them on wheeled trays, but he heard the hitch in Lupin's breath, "The inhibitor should wear off soon, I'll start after it's out of your system." He pushed the trays into position beside the reclining figure. Looking down into the amber eyes of his patient/guinea pig Snape hesitated.

Lupin watched as Snape prepared some of the instruments, vials, and potions that he would need. He was slightly confused when Snape halted in the midst of his work and more so as he found himself staring into twin pools of infinite black. It was just a flicker, hardly there before it was gone, but for a split second he felt as though he were looking into the eyes of a stranger. 

Chapter Sixteen:

Coming back to himself Snape glanced up at the clock, "It's nearly four, at five-thirty I need to get Black and smuggle him down here." Picking up a stethoscope he turned back to Lupin. "Breathe normally." After checking heart, lungs, and blood pressure, all with Muggle tools, he placed a thermometer under Lupin's tongue; "I'm going to have to set up an I.J. and an A.J. on you so get up and move around. I can't have you getting twitchy on me."

Swing his legs over the edge Lupin quickly sat up. Raising an eyebrow he tried to question the new terms.

"Do you feel the inhib. wearing off?" Snape glanced at him before turning to check a Muggle medical device that Lupin could not identify.

Nodding an affirmative Lupin bit back on his rising temper. Once the four longest minutes of his day went by, he handed the thermometer back to Snape without looking at it. Standing beside the table, now with nothing to do, Lupin watched every move made by Snape. He winced as fifteen-centimeter long needles were brought out, and felt queasy when Snape loaded them onto the tray beside the slab-

_'Slab? Why does he call it a slab?'_ about to ask he stopped, _'At five-thirty he gets Serius, and then at six he takes more Plasti-juice. If I wait till then I might get an answer instead of a scowl.' _"What are those for?" he nervously indicated the needles.

Pulling several packets of what looked like very thin tubing out of an under the counter cupboard Snape looked up, "What? The needles?" Then remembering Lupin's fear of anything even remotely resembling a needle he rolled his eyes, "Phobic," he muttered under his breath, fully aware that Lupin's already acute senses were only heightening as the night drew near.

"I'm not Phobic," he knew Snape was aware of his unease around needles, and hated the fact that Snape knew so many of his weaknesses. "If I was, the Boggart in my class would look like one of those," he pointed at the tray, which was now loaded with needles, sealed packages of fine tubing, alcohol wipes, and several other Muggle things that he did not want to be able to identify.

"Put your right arm on the slab." Snape slid on a pair of latex-free rubber gloves and opened an alcohol wipe, "I'm starting am I.V. so you should probably close your eyes." 

Lupin's fast shallow breathes and the sheen of sweat on his brow combined with an accelerated heart rate belied his rather pathetic attempt to seem calm. The IV went in smoothly and a bag of saline was started on a slow drip. After hanging the bag from one of the hooks that were set in the ceiling above the slab Snape again told Lupin to move around and pulled off his gloves.

"How am I supposed to move anywhere with a tube in my wrist?" he groused.

Not looking up from the machine he was tinkering with, Snape distractedly answered, "First of all it's called a 'line' and secondly I don't need you to run around the room, jogging in place would be fine." Satisfied with the readouts from the box he stepped up to Lupin's side. 

"Here," Snape suddenly grabbed Lupin's right hand and forced it to a spot on Lupin's thigh. "Do you feel the muscles here?" He pressed Lupin's hand against his flesh. "Now if you could relax for a minute," he chided, "you would feel the muscles go soft." 

It took a great deal of effort, but he was able to relax his leg and feel the loosening of his muscles. "Ok, but did you have to show me that? " he demanded through clenched teeth. _'I already knew that much about muscles, and did you have to touch me?!'_

With a smirk Snape moved their interlocked hands a little higher on Lupin's thigh, "Now feel here. You need to press hard to feel the sub-layers of muscle," he squeezed Lupin's hand tighter. "Do you feel that twitching?" 

"Yes," wincing Lupin nodded, waiting for more information. He was surprised when Snape jerked his hand away and walked to the other side of the room.

Leaning forward placing his palms against one of the shiny metal counters Snape spoke, "The twitching is caused by an excess of adrenaline in your system," he spoke at the wall. "Excess adrenaline is what dogs are burning when they move in their sleep. You'll feel better if you can get rid of it." With his back to the confused werewolf Snape knew he sounded unnerved. 

He heard the slow rhythm that Lupin's feet beat on the stone floor, but it came from a distance and was not relevant to him.

_'That was so stupid!'_

_* I know! *_

_'I mean what possessed you to touch him?'_

_*I decided to answer his question. I just wanted to answer his question.*_

_'Sure, and-'_

~

After a half-hour of jogging in place Lupin was too tired to care what was wrong with Snape, _'It's not like he has ever been normal. Even when we were kids he was creepy. But how long has he been on the Plasti-juice? Could he have been taking it since then?' _he wondered for the second time.

With the inhibitor nearly gone from his system he was feeling more tired than usual. On the plus side however, after jogging for so long the room did not feel as cold. 

Panting slightly he rested against the central table and quickly glancing away from the I. V. in his forearm remembered the odd terms Snape had used earlier, "What are an eye jay and an a jay?" He looked over to the corner Snape had ended up sitting with his back to.

With a slight shake of his head Snape looked as though he were just being reminded that Lupin was there.

_'PMR is not supposed to have any psychological side effects, but he is acting weird even for him.'_ Lupin was becoming concerned.

"It is almost five-o'clock I should head out soon." He stood and avoided Lupin's rather pointed attempts at eye contact, '_It will be hard enough to meet him at the old well house. I can't believe that I've got to find a way to get Black past the agent at the gate too._'

_*Don't forget the fact that Lupin probably thinks you were hitting on him, the way you seized-up after that little episode back in the hall, and again a minute ago… with your hand… on his thigh...*_

"I thought you said you would be leaving at five-thirty," Lupin hesitantly voiced.

"Things came up, it'll take longer than I thought," Snape snarled back.

Shaking his head again and picking up his robe from the tableside stool he had thrown it over, he almost-laughed, "An I.J. and an A.J. are two large IV lines that go in either side of your neck. Your jugular is the only vein that I **know** I can hit once you've shifted." At Lupin's worried look he smirked again, "I wasn't trained in veterinary medicine. I've had to get what I can from books. When you shift you change mentally, chemically, and physiologically. Getting the major points down, and keeping my job, hasn't left much time for a detailed study of werewolf anatomy."

As he left the stunned, and more than slightly unsettled Were Wolf in his lab he made one final comment, "I'll be back before six, you should try and sleep," and with that he closed the door.


	9. Grated Orange

I am writing within the Potter-verse that was created by Madam Rowling. 

Chapter Seventeen:

Twilight was fast approaching and, as he cautiously made his way to the prearranged meeting place, he sniffed the air for hidden dangers. 

_'Well at least the storm passed,'_ Sirius consoled himself as he navigated the dripping foliage and underbrush of the forest. _'All I need to do now is find the well and then I'm safe.'_ The thought of seeing Harry again gave speed to his already swift feet. 

In his dog form the dim light was not a problem, dogs see better in low light, but then they're colorblind and he had to deal with that, he gave a mental shrug and continued on.

Pausing just outside of the clearing he scanned the area. To his 'dog's eyes' the small glade was empty, but his nose told him differently, _'Citrus? It smells like someone's eating an orange. But if they're eating an orange why don't I smell them too?'_

The scent of the fruit was vibrant and hung heavily in the clean air, but he could not find the scent of the person. Cautious after so much time on the run he decided to circle the area and find the point at which he she or they had entered it. After completing his circuit and finding not a trace Sirius decided that the orange must have been left behind by someone passing by before it had started to rain. Sliding easily from canine to human he entered the clearing and approached the well.

The well itself had been abandoned for so long that the forest had begun to reclaim the ground men had forgotten that they had once cleared. The four low stone walls that made up the visible portion of the shaft were covered with clinging ivy, moss, and the rotting peaked roof the had shaded them for years. 

**-SNAP-**

A twig broke in the forest off to his left and Black instantly resumed the appearance of a large entirely black Rottweiler. Muscles tensed, ready for flight, he sniffed the air again. The orange was overpoweringly strong and he realized his mistake a moment too late.

_'I went all the way around the clearing without checking the clearing itself.'_

He nearly leapt from his skin when a voice whispered to him from the other side of the well; "It's a Succubus. You attracted its attention when you popped into human existence." 

The silken voice that floated on an orange scented breath caused a shiver to run down Sirius' spine. It was so cold and detached, that it could belong to no one but, _'Snape? What is he doing eating an orange? I thought he only drank blood or acid or, something like that.'_

Slowly he walked around to the opposite side of the well and saw a rather disturbing sight. Snape sat on a large rock that had fallen from the side of the well. He had a pealed orange in one hand and was pulling off sections and eating them with his eyes closed. His black robe and large cape were pooled around him like a giant ink spill. It was disturbing Sirius decided, because Snape looked so casual without shedding a bit of the darkness that clung to him.

Snape addressed him almost lazily. "I think the only way you could make more noise walking through the woods would be if some one tied a-" there was a rustle in the forest behind them.

"It's the Succubus." Snape didn't seem to care and continued to eat his fruit.

_'Is he really suicidal?' _Black looked from the orange eating Potion Master, to the soft footsteps that approached from the forest on the other side of the clearing. _'I'm safe, they only prey on people that they can attract, and it can't recognize me as human, while I'm a dog. But- Wait a minute!'_

A rather thrilling idea made its presence known in his head, _'If that is a Succubus, and I am immune to its trick, it will have to take the shape of the person that Snape cares about most!' _A rather delighted though evil chuckle echoed through his mind at the thought, _'Yah, James would have loved to be here for this one,' _before his ears could droop he cheered slightly. _'At least I can tell Lupin, and Harry.'_

Having finished about half of his orange Snape stood and began to slowly walk toward the creature that was emerging from the bushes. 

_'Dear god! He's in love with a Succubus!'_ Sirius' jaw dropped.

Snape approached the monster and, stopping midway between it and Black, ate another section of orange. 

He nodded at the undisguised terror, "Absolute proof," he spit a seed to the side, "that I'm a heartless bastard." There was a wistful almost regretful edge to his voice.

A look of confusion crossed the almost-human face of the monster before it turned and went back into the forest. 

"Come on," Snape abruptly walked to a thin point in the bushy circle and began to head north. "I have to get back before six-o'clock."

~

"I thought they only came out at night," Sirius broached the subject that had been filling his mind for the past few kilometers.

"They usually do, but because of the dark sky and recent rarity of human flesh," he emphasized the word with a glance back at Sirius. "Some of the inhabitants of this wood have decided to come out early." 

They had traveled a long enough distance from the clearing that Sirius had felt safe returning to human form. In the moment it took for him to change shape though, Snape had gained quiet a bit of ground and Sirius had been forced to scramble to catch up.

"Is there some particular reason why we have to go at a break neck pace, or did you find running through those thorn bushes especially pleasant?" 

No response.

"Come on Sna—"

He whirled around so fast that he was in Black's face before the startled man could finish.

"Not another word," he rasped. "You make better time as a dog, and unless you're interested in finding your way out alone I suggest that you go back to your Animagus form. Now." Spinning sharply he faced the way they had been going and continued on.

It was obviously not just a threat. Even when they had been in school everyone had known that the skinny dark-haired boy never made threats. Every once in a while though, some one who had pushed him too far would turn up in the medical wing.

_'Yah but they never stayed long,' _Black remembered,_ 'They were transferred to Mungo's as soon as the Medi-wizards could get there.'_

Dropping to all fours he found it was much easier to push through the brush and keep even with his guide, until they reached a large round iron grate set into the side of a hill. When Snape stopped and stared at the chain that held the grate closed, Black shifted form again.

"Just be quiet," was all Snape said while continuing to stare at the chain.

Stepping to the side to get a better look, Black saw what was holding them up, "It's a padlock," he offered, "Muggles use them to-" 

"I know what it is. Now shut up. I need to concentrate." 

Sirius wisely chose to step back and let Snape think. Obviously now was not the time to share odd bits of Muggle culture that he had picked up over the years.

After a few minutes of silence Snape raised his left hand toward the lock.

_'Just do it and we can get back to the castle. Back to safety.'_

_*Yah, like there's anywhere that's safe now*_

With a slight sense of resignation he focused his will on the rusted lock that barred their way.

**-Click-** the lock sprang open.

In one smooth motion Snape removed the lock and chain from the grate and flung them into the forest. 

The grate was opened and the tunnel beyond was large enough that Sirius could walk down it in a crouch. He chose to slip into 'dog mode' though, to save himself a backache. 

Keeping one hand on the tunnel wall to steady himself Snape led the way into the hill.

Chapter Eighteen:

The tunnel was long. The tunnel was dark. And the tunnel apparently led nowhere.

After twists and turns, side passages and secret passages, and all of the nasty little spiders and rats and things that like cool dark places, Sirius was panting. Even in canine form he had been forced to nearly run in order to keep up with Snape. 

Unable to see Snape in the utter blackness or even hear his footsteps (his claws raked against the tunnel floor drowning out any sound that might have been made by the figure before him) Sirius found himself following the slight citrus fragrance that still clung to his guide.

Gradually the oblivion they had been traversing began to fall away. There was a faint light ahead and when they finally reached its source Black was again thunder-struck. Snape had stopped at the end of the tunnel and just beyond it was-

_'Nothing?!' _Sirius could not see very much around Snape's cape but what he could see did not look good. 

Swiftly removing two lengths of narrow rope from a pocket Snape whispered, "You're going to need to shift back to climb." Without waiting for Black to comply he tossed one of the pieces of rope back at him and began to unfasten the front of his robe.

The dim light that seemed to be coming from above was not enough to enable him to clearly see what Snape was doing. Sirius got the impression though, that Snape was using the rope as a belt and had tied it to keep his robe open.

"Follow my lead. Don't say anything, and start with your right foot." Snape advised before grasping something outside the tunnel with his right hand and swinging out of the tunnel taking a sharp right. 

When Sirius had tied his robe back and stepped forward to the end of the tunnel he saw that it was intersected vertically by a nearly identical shaft that had a pale light at the top, and seemingly no bottom. Leaning out to the right where Snape had disappeared, he saw a ladder that had been imbedded into the wall. Several of the rungs had fallen away and it looked as though starting on a particular foot might be the only way to make it to the top.

Gingerly he grasped the far side of the ladder with his left hand. With his back to the abyss he slowly placed his left foot on the rung at just about knee height above the floor of the tunnel. 

_'No, he said to start with the right.'_ He had remembered in time to catch himself as the rung crumbled away under his weight.

A tiny splash echoed back after a long moment.

Very carefully, and rather awkwardly, he crossed his right leg in front of his left and managed to find a small post that only his right foot could have settled on. After that the climb went smoothly. Snape could be seen far above and silhouetted in the circle of light that shone down.

Snape waited impatiently for Black to reach the top. When he finally emerged his expression drew a nearly-a-smile from the annoyed professor. 

"This is not the same well we left hours ago, please tell me it's not," he gasped.

"That one was square, this one is round. It is nearly five-forty-five and we still need to break into the school grounds." 

He could not force the customary chill in his voice that should have been there. Hastily he untied his 'belt' refastened his robe and set off again before Black could comment on it.

~ 

They walked the deserted halls of Hogwarts (it was dinner time) and silent as shadows crept into the dungeon. Still leading the way Snape stopped in the middle of a hall and indicated the wall on his left, "That's Lupin's door," taking a few steps further he turned and flicked his wrist at the wall on his right, "Yours is here. The password is… " He cringed slightly but forced himself to continue, "Honey-twist." Glaring sharply at Black's poorly disguised mirth, "The Headmaster chose it. I suggest that you familiarize yourself with your rooms some other time. I need you to watch Lupin while I'm gone." 

With nothing to leave in his 'new digs' and no clean robe to change into Sirius gave a nod of understanding and waited for Snape to lead him to Remus. _'It is probably still not a good idea to talk, but once he's gone, where ever he's going to, I'll be able to ask Remus if he thinks Snape's finally lost his mind. It's a very real possibility considering the way he's been acting.'_

"You should leave your wand here." 

"What on Earth for?" _'I knew it! He's nutters.'_

With a frustrated sigh Snape explained, "My private lab is where I have been working with Lupin. I keep it as magic-free as possible so that the equipment that I have managed to, er, acquire is not damaged. Now put your wand in there," he jerked a thumb at the hidden door, "alone, or keep it company I don't care which, but it is not coming within two-hundred paces of my lab."

He swished past Black and swiftly made his way to what seemed to be just a small alcove down the hall from his classroom. With the hour biting at his heels he did not wait to see if Black would follow or not, again raising his left hand he focused for a moment and… slowly a door came into being at the back of the nook and swung outward.

Sirius quickly spat the password and placed his wand on a small end table that was conveniently near the door. Not taking the time to notice that his living room had been fully furnished for him, or that a cheerful fire was burning in the fireplace, he raced after Snape.

Just making it through the closing door in the alcove, Sirius found himself, once again, in a pitch-black passage. This one however was not a nice smooth tunnel, it was a narrow steeply angled, spiral staircase that had nothing but a long fall on the inside curve and a rather slick curved stone wall on the outer edge. That was all he glimpsed before the door shut and disappeared. That and the edge of Snape's cloak as it flared behind him.


	10. Anthropocentricly Yours

Now I'm finally going to get the chance to introduce you to Starch. 

The introduction of Starch is dedicated to Sunna. The first link here is to a spoof. It is not what I meant, These next two links are to Sunna's drawings of Starch http: //www .side7. com /cgi-bin /S7SDB /DisplayImg.p l?INO =255138 and http: //www .side7. com /cgi-bin /S7SDB /DisplayImg .pl?INO =255305 

I should think that by now you can tell what is mine, and what is _still _the property of J. K. Rowling…

**Anthropocentric is a word that means: _viewing the world through human values and experiences. _**

-Chapter Nineteen-

The door to the lab swung open and Sirius caught his breath at the wave of cold that rushed out to meet them, "You work in a giant refrigerator?" he almost joked then, remembering that it was Snape, decided to just snicker to himself. '_Snape surrounded by leftovers! Gotta tell Remus about that one when I get the chance.'_

Walking in and setting his cloak back on the stool it had been on, Snape started tinkering with the insides of a beige colored metal box on one of the tables.

Without looking at the sleeping form, tightly clutching a robe that had been improvised into a blanket, Snape began a list that had been originally invented for Lupin. "Everything here is mine. Do not touch my things. You may sit on that," he pointed to a stool to the left of the slab, "and you may move it anywhere you like. So long as it stays where it is."

"So you just left Remus here to freeze?!" righteous indignation flared in his Gryffindor heart.

"He is a werewolf. An hour in a cold room is not nearly enough to kill him. I will be leaving just after sunset and you may do anything you like from that time, until I return." A malicious gleam entered his eye. He amended, "Provided you do it silently and remain seated."

Black rolled his eyes but sat as instructed. Looking around the room he was awed. Due to a rather strong partiality for muggle movies and television he was able to recognize several of the apparatus, "Is that an electronic IV pump?" he gaped, "How do you get all of these muggle electronics to work down here? "

"I don't. Well not in the case of the pump anyway." 

"What's with the restraints?" he eyed the thick leather straps with suspicion.

"I'm into bondage."

The simple answer, without any sneering addition or insulting comment drew Sirius' attention. He looked up in time to see Snape tuck a small phial into the shirt he wore under his robe.

He could only stutter a few whu-whu sounds. Sirius thought his jaw might have dislocated from dropping so fast. Then something that he had never dreamed possible happened. Snape quietly laughed. It was obviously at his expense, but it was a laugh none the less.

"What happened to you?" Lupin's voice was rough with sleep and as he sat up he glanced from Sirius' scratched face to the wall clock, "It's six o'clock."

"So?" Not willing to accept that Snape had just pulled one over on him, Sirius shifted slightly to see the clock over his shoulder. 

He winced when the fabric of his robe brushed at a scratch on his neck, one of the thorn bushes had gotten him good, "That reminds me," he glanced at Snape then returned to Lupin. "Remus, what would it indicate if a Succubus did **not** respond to a person?"

"I don't know." he yawned, "I thought you got over that stupid riddle phase when you were twelve." 

"I thought you liked my riddles." There was a slight pout in his voice.

"Yah, like I liked a pop-quiz."

"Well this isn't a riddle," Sirius huffed.

"Fine. Uhhhm," Lupin closed his eyes in mock concentration, "If one of them is dead?"

"Come on."

"Why?"

"Because Snape and I met in a clearing. A Succubus came up, just looked through him and left. So, oh professor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts, what does that mean?"

"That he is a heartless jerk who doesn't love anyone. But we knew that back in school." Remus started to lay back down. The sun was slowly setting and he could feel it.

"Who was she?" Black turned and demanded of Snape.

"Who?" Lupin asked, not following the wild line of thought that his friend had run down.

Without looking away from Snape he indirectly answered, "She must have been something special, to kill whatever heart you had. Did she die, or just leave you?"

"Sirius!" Lupin cried in shock, "I can't believe you're saying-- That is disgusting- to suggest that a live woman would have him!"

A long silence followed.

"This is not a conversation that I will entertain." With a great deal of effort he kept his voice under control and finished the adjustments to the machine he was working on.

Lupin found his voice first and innocently asked, "Okay, who was he then?" 

With a low growl Snape stood and grabbed his cloak, "Not even if you strapped me down and forced me to swallow Veritaserum, would I have this conversation with you." He checked the fluid bag attached to Lupin's IV and paused halfway out the door, "I will be back within the half hour." He then closed the door and headed back to his bed to sleep off the Plasti-juice.

In the midst of the growing darkness, the sun cut a last piercing swath through the clouds in his mind and Remus sat up quickly turning to face Sirius, "Do you think he could really beat the serum? I mean that's what he said, right?"

"I don't know." Black kept his voice low, "He opened a padlock without a key or his wand or anything, and well, you remember what they used to say about him." He shrugged uncomfortably, "Maybe he could."

~

Half an hour later Snape slowly pried his eyes open and began to pull himself to his feet, _'Gotta get more sleep soon. Maybe I should try the Dreamless-sleep potion, or the Deep-sleep potion.'_

*_If you took enough of either one it wouldn't mater. *_

Still rather foggy when he reached the lab it took a few seconds to remember what the extra body was doing there.

"It's almost sunset," he announced staring for a moment at Black before snapping on a pair of rubber gloves.

"Ya think?" Lupin faked surprise.

Sirius watched silently as Snape injected a clear liquid into Lupin's IV.

"It's a mild sedative," Snape hadn't had to look up to know that Black was watching his every move. "I need to strap you down now." He addressed Lupin, who was not looking very well all of a sudden, "You won't be able to hold still enough for the EKG, and I don't have the battery power to run the test twice."

Closing his eyes Lupin lay back and once again trusted himself to Snape's theoretical mercy.

"It's ok Lupin," Snape sounded almost reassuring. Which of course only worried him all the more. As the straps were cinched down on his ankles and thighs Snape whisper low enough that Sirius could not hear, "You were right and I know it. It's ok, really." 

"Right, about what?" Remus cautiously opened his eyes.

Carefully tightening the strap across Lupin's chest Snape did not answer. Instead he frowned slightly and closely watched the rise and fall of the WereWolf's bare chest.

"Wha—"

"Sh." Snape cut him off.

Becoming increasingly nervous under the Potion Master's gaze, Lupin began to strain against the strap across his chest taking sharp breaths of air. When he felt Snape's cool, finely boned hand spread over his heart Lupin struggled harder, "Loosen the strap… I can't breathe!" 

"No." 

Sirius could not hear the word as it left Snape's mouth, but he could read it on his lips. "What is going on?" he was becoming rather worried now too.

Swiftly closing the valve on Lupin's IV Snape reached for one of the wickedly long needles on the tray beside him. "He is having an allergic reaction," he plunged the needle straight into Lupin's heart and released the drug it contained. Pulling the needle out he flung it to the other side of the room with a snarl and slapped Remus' face as his eyes rolled back. "I need you to stay awake." Neither his tone nor his touch were gentle. He got the desired result anyway.

"Can't… breathe…" Lupin gasped.

"The drug will keep your heart beating, but I can't do anything about your lungs." He knew it was not a comforting thing to hear, but time was slipping by, "Once you shift to your wolf form the allergic reaction should end." At Black's disbelieving look, which he again did not need to see to know, he sighed, "There are very few drugs that affect people and animals in precisely the same way. The amount of sedative that I used could not possibly affect a wolf. I hope," he added under his breath.

"Well what are you going to do now?!" Sirius was nearly beside himself with impotent rage. Unable to help his dying friend and wanting to seriously throttle the only one that could, he nervously bit his lip and drew blood.

"Oh great," Snape hurriedly found a gauze pad and handed it to Black. "You just had to bring the scent of **fresh** **human blood** into this didn't you." Jabbing a finger in the direction of a bio-hazard-red trash bag he spoke harshly, "I can't do anything until he stops breathing. Then, I think, I can keep him alive until he shifts." 

They watched as Lupin strained harder and received less for his efforts with each passing minute. 

Snape stepped forward as Lupin opened his mouth and gaped like a fish. No air filled his lungs and only his heart moved in his chest, "I'm truly sorry for this," he whispered. Looking into Lupin's fearful eyes he leaned in closer, "I don't have the right equipment to do anything else." 

_'What the hell?!' _Lupin screamed without a sound, _'What is he going to-' _cool firm lips pressed down on his own and a breath of already warm air forced its way into his body.

Re-injecting the chemical-blocker into the struggling heart every five minutes, for nearly half an hour he breathed life into Lupin. Now Snape was seeing black spots, and feeling dizzy. As the sun and moon traded places on the throne of the sky, he released the bonds that held Lupin down.

"Holy Merlin! Are you crazy?!" Not having a death wish of his own, Sirius changed to his Animagus form.

"As a dog you are safe," he continued to undo the straps, "and if I leave him tied, as he shifted he would be fatally injured." Deftly he slid a muzzle onto the emerging WereWolf's snout, "I have been commanded to search for a cure for him, I don't think death is what the Headmaster had in mind."

Yawning slightly Snape took up his cloak again. "I will be back shortly after midnight. I still need those samples, and I think he should rest a bit after all of that, er- trauma." He exited without the exhausted WereWolf noticing. 

Sirius lay down on the stone floor and prepared for a long boring wait.

-Chapter Twenty- 

If Starch comes off as anything other than straight, it's Sunna's fault! Sunna, you have been a wonderful boost for my confidence as a writer, and a great sounding-board. But I still blame this on you!

With sureness borne of familiarity, the cloaked figure swiftly made his way to the proper door and silently let himself in without knocking. Closing the door he turned to scan the dimly lit examination room/research lab. Keen eyes pierced the darkest shadows, searching for the room's rightful occupant.

Strong arms came up from behind him, encircling his waist and pulling him tight against a cool, well-muscled chest. 

Arching his back and tilting his head so that his hair fell away, he bared his neck, "Take me now," he managed to purr.

A soft laugh sent puffs of cool air against his skin, as the invitation to nuzzle his neck was playfully accepted.

"I have not bitten anyone for nearly half a millennium," the gently accented voice caressed his ear. "But I would go back on all of that now, if you really meant it." Starch breathed the question across the warm temple before him, "Do you?" 

For a one-thousand-year-old Vampire Starch was remarkably emotionally healthy. He looked as though he must have been in his mid twenty's when he had 'crossed over' as they put it. His accent had definitely become English over the centuries. But when he was really engrossed with or excited by something a slight hint of Greek would creep back into his words. Clear grey eyes spoke of a kind but troubled heart. It was his hair though, that set him apart. A rather eighty's style, uneven thatch of white hair interspersed with grey, spots.

"No" murmured the warmer of the two, dropping the pseudo-seductive behavior. Turning around so that he could return the embrace his voice was slightly muffled by a supportive shoulder, "Why do I do this?"

"You need unconditional acceptance, I provide that for you," Starch spoke softly and stroked the head that was burying itself into his shoulder.

"Why?" 

The sincere confusion that he heard tore at his still heart. "Are you sure you want to hear the truth? I have no idea how or why they did what they did. But I do know what they did, did to you." He waited, but there was no response.

"That night, my clan turned against me," Starch stepped back and forced his friend to face him. "They sought to end my quest for mortality and tied me with silver chains to a memorial cross in the graveyard. The silver burnt my flesh and sapped my strength, leaving me helpless to the coming dawn. You released me. You drug me to the safety of a dark crypt. You poured out your own blood to give me the strength to survive." His voice, normally calm and soothing, was charged with emotion, "When I drank your blood I tasted your inner being. I know what has been done to you. Are you sure that you want to know?" 

After several precious minutes had gone by he felt a slight nod and continued. 

"Everyone needs love." He decided to try starting with a basic truth, one that every child knows instinctively. One that his friend had no grasp of. "You are not whole, you require someone else. I offer a hug and emotional support. You understand manipulation and falsity but not friendship. So you try to relate to me in a way you do understand, something safe."

"My Master…"

Taking the face before him between his hands Starch silently begged for the right words, "He sees you but dimly, and even then his sight is clouded by his own desires." _'Please, I have tried so hard and for so long. And he still can't even understand the difference between love, lust and a strategic alliance.' _"I have drunk of your blood, your essence. I have tasted of your inner being. I have accepted all of you."

After a few more minutes, minutes that they both knew could not be spared, the intruder began to pull away. "It's almost eleven-thirty I should go now. I know that you have an appointment in an hour." He could not look into the eyes that tried to offer a comfort he could neither accept nor comprehend. He had been told the truth though, and that he could understand. "Just make sure that the results get to the right man."

As swiftly and silently as he had come he departed, and the vampire was left to await his first scheduled patient of the night.

~

"Ah, Severus how nice to see that you remain as punctual as ever. Even with the new trouble you seem to have found." The slight jab was softened by a friendly smile.

"Did you manage to get the records?" Snape ignored the baiting.

"You know I would not be in this business if I could not steal a simple patient's record from Mungo's," Starch scoffed at Snape's apparent lack of faith.

Snape arched a coal black brow, " Technically you're not **in** business."

Matching his friend's smirk, Starch handed him a set of hospital pajamas, "Lets see if I can't manage a better job than Doctor Merkowitz, hmm?"


	11. 15 Love

Hope you all are enjoying the fic. Haven't heard much from you… but I know you're out there.

The work you're reading is based on a series of books by J. K. Rowling and I make no money from it.

Chapter Twenty-one:

"No," Snape looked at the proffered johnny top and bottom and stubbornly refused to take them.

Starch sighed. "I will be re-doing every test Merkowitz did and several that he failed to perform. This will take a few hours so I would like to start, **now**."

Snatching up the offensively pink clothes Snape muttered incoherently all the way to the screened off changing area.

When Snape came back into the central portion of the room, Starch had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. He handed a small specimen jar to the surly professor and turned his attention toward the open file on his desk.

"And I'm supposed to fill this with, what exactly?" 

He didn't need to look up to see the sneer on Snape's face. He had put up with it for years. "I didn't choose the color, Lenore did. So if you need to complain about it, go to her." He changed tone slightly to add emphasis, "And don't cry over spilt milk."

Snape paled. "I had to have misunderstood you just now." The plea in his voice brought the black-market doctor's eyes up from the report.

"I need to run an analysis of all of your, erm--" his eyes darted away.

Head down Snape left the main room again. With the jar. 

(Many members of the 'Secrets Branch' were earnestly seeking the file Starch was studying. They would never find it.)

The information that Doctor Merkowitz had compiled on Severus was rather extensive, and totally useless. He flipped page after page of contradictory test results and notes that were indecipherably sloppy.

A familiar 'small jar' was thumped down in the middle of the page he was trying to read. It now contained a sticky, milky colored fluid.

"That was the last shred of dignity I had," Snape was clearly seething. "I think I hate you now."

All he saw when he looked into Snape's eyes though, was a sort of guilty self-loathing.

"Why do you put up with her?" 

"Lenore?" Thankful for the change of subject, Starch closed Snape's patient record. Leading the way to one of the exam cubicles he shrugged, "Because I love her." 

Intensely studying the flecks in the floor tiles Snape sat on the edge of the gurney-bed. "And that's enough?"

"Sometimes I have trouble telling which of us is the Vamp and which is the Human." It was an old joke, and it drew a slight sort-of-a-grin from Severus.

~

It was nearly four o'clock when Starch nodded to Snape's request. "Yes I'm done you can change back to that ridiculous outfit you seem so stuck on." He hooked a thumb at the neat pile of black clothes on a table.

Shedding the pink johnny and pants as though an expeliramus charm had been used on him, Snape grabbed up his own clothes and quickly put them on.

Starch shook his head as he checked the progress on a series of blood cultures. "Why do you insist on wearing a full set of Muggle clothes, Victorian no less! Only to cover it all with that robe. And do you own anything that isn't black?!"

Fully clothed Snape lay his hand upon the doorknob before answering, "I wear them because I need the long sleeves and high collar. The robe I wear because I need to hide." He glimpsed Starch's startled face from the corner of his eye, "You didn't expect that did you?" 

"No I didn't." Honesty was always the best policy, when you were speaking with someone like Snape. "You don't talk much about yourself. Why do you hide?"

The invitation to open up more was strangely tempting, and the feeling that he could trust the Vampire was very strong. So strong that he turned from the door and really looked at the pale man.

He barely whispered but knew that Starch would hear. "Why didn't you hide?"

"I'm an Exotic. I would not have been able to hide that no mater what I used as a blind." 

The terse reply prompted a counter statement, "Not with the pro-segregationists in power. But what happens when they are voted out?"

"Then they won't let me practice medicine because I'm a Vamp, it makes no difference to them." _'How did he get me worked up and talking about myself again?' _Starch wondered,_ 'This is the way it always goes though. I ask a question, he bats the conversation back to my side of the net, and then he walks away.'_ He sighed silently as he was proved right. Again.

A question as to the time before the results would be ready was sent over Snape's shoulder as he walked into the brightly lit hall.

"It will take about three weeks to get them all in." A door to the outer world opened and shut silently. "Good night Snape." 

Chapter Twenty-two:

Opening the door to his lab, Snape stepped in and shut it immediately. It would be a royal riot if Lupin got out. As he turned, a fifty-nine kilogram wolf slammed into his chest. He hit the floor hard, and his ears rang from the impact. Grabbing the paws that were tearing into him, he ignored the pain.

"Black, get the yellow topped bottle out of the third cabinet, on the left wall! **Now**!" 

Keeping one eye on the struggling pair Sirius shifted form and quickly found the requested bottle. "Got it!" 

He scowled when Black held it out. "As though I can do anything with it at the moment?! Get one of the empty syringes off the tray, there, and load it with five cc's of that stuff."

While Black fumbled with the safety cap on the needle, Snape continued to try and keep the amber-eyed bloodthirsty beast from clawing his throat out. Because of the cage on its snout, the Werewolf was forced to rely on its claws alone.

He hissed when its rear claws began to dig into his thighs, shredding his robe, pant legs, and flesh. "Are you fooling around or what?!" He vented frustration and pain with one shout. Then grit his teeth and focused on holding on.

Standing a full six meters away Black held up the loaded syringe, "What do you want me to do with it now?"

"Get over here and inject it into its shoulder, **now**." A soft growl had crept into his, voice. Severus was starting to loose the fight, and in the cold air of the lab the creature's hot breath created clouds of steam that misted on his face and neck.

A moment of hesitation, then Black leapt forward. Stabbing the needle into the thickly muscled shoulder he swiftly injected the yellowy liquid. Expecting an immediate 'Magical' reaction he stumbled back when nothing seemed to change, "Why didn't it work?" Black cried.

A few minutes later the Werewolf began to loose strength. It managed to rake open four parallel scratches on the cheek of its intended victim before sagging, then falling to the ground, asleep.

"It is called Phenobarbital, it's an animal tranquilizer." Snape told the stunned Black. Freeing himself of the weight of the unconscious Werewolf, he checked its pulse and removed the empty needle that Black had left behind, _'When he fled.' _Taking a deep breath he briefly closed his eyes. Bending at the knees he scooped up the drugged animal. The pain that flared in his legs and head was ignored. He walked over and laid the creature on the slab. 

"You're bleeding," Sirius stared at the trail of blood that led from the place Snape had lain pinned to the floor, to where he was now standing beside the central table.

"The drug will wear off faster than if it were a normal wolf, so I need to hurry." Snape again pulled on a pair of gloves and began to shave the fur from the side of the wolf's neck.

"Why do you keep referring to Remus as an it?" Sirius distantly noted that Snape was using electric shears.

"What?" he murmured, obviously more focused on his task than his unwelcome spectator.

"You keep referring to Remus as an it, like he's a dumb animal or something." 

Spreading Iodine over the newly exposed skin, Snape spoke softly, "There's a smallish black box over there," he nodded to his left, "hit the play button."

"This looks like an MP3 player," Black examined it for a moment before pressing the tab inscribed with a triangle.

Instantly the speakers imbedded in the walls made themselves known. Jumping slightly at the sudden throb of some powerful woofers Black had to speak up to carry over the loud music, "Isn't this a bit too loud? I mean you are doing some rather delicate stuff. **With his jugular and all.**"

Silently lip-synching the words, it did not seem like Snape had heard him.

Even more surprised when the music picked up Black stammered, "**I-is this, uh- techno?!**"

"Yah, Eighty's." came the distracted reply.

"**Shouldn't I turn it down at least?!**" Black shouted again.

After inserting a line into the left side of Lupin's neck and securing it in place, Snape skillfully flipped the large wolf onto its other side. Again, he shaved and sterilized the site. "I need to hurry, I have a window of only a few minutes where I can actually get the lines in." Somehow his voice easily carried over the synthetic-rock. "If I don't get them in fast enough I won't have time to get the samples I need and safely remove the arterial lines." Sliding another thin tube into Remus' neck, "It should take about five minutes for it to heal on each side. The tiny dose of tranquilizer you gave it should last just long enough." Snape promptly forgot about Black until he had carefully drawn the twenty cc's of blood, he thought would be enough, "It's starting to blink at a more normal rate – "

"**You're talking about Remus for Merlin's sake!**" Black shouted, "**What is wrong with you? Do you really hate him that much?!**"

"I don't hate him," Snape looked up into Black's fiery eyes. Confusion passed across his face. "Why would you think that?" When Black did not respond he set about removing the IVs. The right one first. "Hold pressure here," he ordered as he pressed a thick gauze pad to the site, while drawing out the IV needle, "You need to press hard enough that you think you're going to hurt it."

Reluctantly, Sirius came forward and took over holding down on Remus' neck. A new song started, and nothing seemed quite right, to him. 

Placing the new samples into a transportation container, Snape started cleaning up the bloody mess on his floor. 


	12. Either? Or? Maybe Both?

I don't own the Harry Potter universe. And Rowling does not own Starch! So there.

I know that this posting does not have my usual one week lag time. Please don't expect this to become the status quo I am just getting impatient with how long it is taking to get this fic done.

Chapter Twenty-four is dedicated to Aphex Twin. Write me a review!

Chapter Twenty-three:

Thursday was a perfectly wonderful day for many millions of people all over the world. None of those people had potions at Hogwarts. None of those lucky people had to put up with a certain Potions Master, who had not gotten his day off to a good start.

_'I can't believe that I forgot that I hadn't given him the Wolf's Bane Potion.'_

_*Oh, I do! *_

After throwing up for lunch, he tried to prepare himself for his first Potions Theory class of the year. As the students filed in he gave the eager Miss Granger a withering smirk, then choked on the humiliating comment that he had prepared for her. 

"Mister—" he had to clear his throat, "Mister, Longbottom? You are aware that this is Potions Theory, are you not?"

Neville could not look up from the floor, "Yes Sir." He cautiously stepped closer to Snape's desk so that the others could pass by.

"What are you doing here then?" 

"My grandmother wanted me to take the class. She wrote the Headmaster and had me transferred into it, Sir."

"And that happened today," Neville nodded, "Take a seat then." 

Looking over the room full of, mostly Slytherin, students he started class with an appropriately intimidating speech. "Until now I have had to pace the curriculum to allow for the, less dedicated students. By signing up for this class you have set yourselves apart from them and have thereby placed yourselves into the center of my world." 

He did not walk back and forth in front of his desk, as he usually did when speaking to a class. Instead he stood, with arms folded loosely across his chest and looked each of the Fifth-years in the eye. 

"You have no idea what you have just submitted yourselves to, but you will regret it. I have no time for fools, or slackers. For each exercise you will either pass, or fail. If you fail you will be thrown out. No exceptions. No excuses." He flung a piece of chalk over his shoulder at the blackboard; it caught itself a breath away from being smashed and began writing out a list of ingredients, "Begin." 

He slipped out the door while the scratching of quills filled the air. Due to a conflict between his and Lupin's schedules he needed to be in both Potions Theory and Fifth year Defense at the same time. 

Because of the previous night's, events Lupin had not been able to teach his classes today. Snape had worked out a tenuous contingency plan ahead of time, and it seemed to be working. His own Fifth Sixth and Seventh year classes were being supervised by The Baron; no childish acting out there. McGonagall was covering First year Defense. That freed him up for Lupin's Second through Fifth year classes. Sixth and Seventh year Defense had a study hall supervised by Sir Nicholas.

_'What was that crazy old woman thinking? Pushing him into this when he hates everything about it. I mean he even hates me.'_

_*I hate you too. Come to think of it, who doesn't hate you? *_

~

The note taking had lasted for nearly all of the period and when the tiny nub of chalk that remained slumped down to the holder everyone sighed with relief.

With a curl of his lips Snape (who had had to dismiss the Defense class early to make it back in time) mocked the entire class at once, "I am not going to be failing any of you, today, as you all seem to have managed to finish your notes. Your next assignment is even simpler. All you must do is come to class next Wednesday with the name of the potion whose formula you have just copied. Dismissed."

He made it to the next Defense class on time, but running back and forth between his dungeon and Lupin's tower was starting to make his head ache again.

~

Skipping dinner he instead checked on the blood samples that had been taken early that morning. The twenty cc's drawn from Lupin, while in full wolf form, were lined up beside identical vials of Black's blood, and also drawn while in canine form. There was just room in the transport container for the pint of blood that he would be drawing from Lupin shortly. Then it would all be sent to Natalie (someone that he knew who had access to the equipment that could perform the tests he wanted done.)

Correcting the work for his own classes and all of Lupin's would not have taken nearly so long as it did, if he hadn't tried to curb his sarcastic comments while doing Remus' job. 

With all of his official duties taken care of, Snape wearily approached Lupin's door, '_How could the Headmaster have put them both down here? It's not like I didn't have enough trouble getting my work done as it was. I now have to dodge Lupin and Black to answer the Dark Lord's next summons.'_

_*Don't forget the Agents waiting for you in Hogsmead.*_

The hallway began to tilt and he felt as though he was looking through a dense fog, _'I need to get more sleep,'_ he thought as his vision became totally obscured.

@---,--'---------

Sirius had spent the morning in Remus' quarters. Still too tired from the moon and everything else that had occurred last night Remus readily took up Sirius' offer of 'A few rounds of chess.' A few rounds stretched into lunch then Remus had taken a nap, and in the afternoon Sirius came back across the hall to see if he was up to a chat.

"Yah," Remus stretched and yawned while stepping aside to let Sirius in. "I've actually been meaning to talk to about a few things too." He motioned toward one of the large fluffy chairs in front of the fireplace. "I used to have a window," he apologetically murmured.

"I stared at the stone walls in my living room so long that I started to see pictures in their texture. You could go crazy cooped up down here for too long." He laughed, "And that's from a guy who just got out of Azkaban! Seriously though, there is a lot of weird stuff going on and I think we should get to the bottom of it."

"Like the PMR diagnosis and the Plasti-juice I told you about."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, "How did you find out about all of this?" he sat forward, intent on the answer.

"He told me," Remus grinned.

"Huh?" 

His grin faded as he explained, "I think it's a side affect of the Plasti-juice, but when he takes it, it's like he's on Viritaserum or something. Plus he spooks easy and acts, well strange."

"Hasn't he always been strange?" Sirius conjured a tea tray and helped himself.

Remus shook his head and also took a cup of tea, "No, I mean strange for him. He gets this different look in his eyes and he… well just acts different." He set his cup aside knowing he sounded lame.

When Sirius nodded he sat up again, "I think I know what you mean," Sirius said around a cookie. "He was eating an orange when I found him in the woods," he gave an overly significant look, "And in that lab of his-" 

Another cookie was begging to be eaten and he obliged it before continuing, mostly because he knew it would bug Remus.

"Would you stop stuffing your face and finish your sentence?" Remus finally broke down and demanded.

Taking a sip of tea, and earning a sigh of stretched patients he set his cup aside with a grin, "He keeps a collection of American Muggle music. From the eighty's!" They both cringed, "The decade that good taste forgot."

Finally Remus laughed and Sirius felt more relieved than he thought possible. 

"I can't believe you fell for that whole bondage line," Remus laughed harder, "He tried that one on me when I first came to the lab and I just rolled my eyes and -hehehe- and you bought it!"

"Okay, now that was not funny!" Serius blurted, "I have been through a lot in the past few days and I," he gave up. Remus was just laughing harder and he decided to join him.

Never let it be said that Sirius Black couldn't laugh at himself.

Chapter Twenty-four:

In Gryffindor common room, just after dinner, Ron approached Hermione as she gathered her finished work and prepared to put it away.

"Mione?"

"Yes Ron?" she did not stop shuffling her scrolls and quills, but she did glance up at him and smile.

Ron took it as the invitation to talk that it was meant to be. "Tell me you're not taking an extra potions class," he pled.

Doing a rather good impression of McGonagall she pursed her lips and looked down her nose at him. (Even though she had to look up at him she could still look down her nose doing it.) "I need to if I want to get into Advanced Potions next year," she patiently explained.

"Why would you want to do that?" Ron cried.

Slinging her book bag over her shoulder Hermione sighed, "Ron really don't you have some work to do or something?"

"Hey guys," Harry called as he joined them. Glancing around he motioned for a huddle, "I just had a great idea and we need to meet."

One by one they slipped unnoticed into their secret room. Sitting close together so that their voices wouldn't carry beyond the false wall/entrance, Harry excitedly explained his plan.

"So I was thinking we need to make sure that The Corsair's doesn't end when we graduate. It should carry on-"

"Like a secret society?!" Ron exclaimed.

Nodding vigorously Harry continued, "Yes, so we need a member of a lower year to join."

After a bit of discussion on things like the rules of induction of new members and the criteria for choosing them, it was decided to carry out Harry's plan.

"But who do we approach?" Hermione asked.

"What about the Rittenhouse kid?" Ron offered.

Harry grinned, "The albino?"

"He is not an albino, Harry." Hermione corrected, "Albino's have pink eyes and no pigment in their skin. He's pale and has blue eyes." 

"Well, I was just joking Hermi," he pacified, "I don't need to get a book on the subject. For a second year he's pretty good."

"And he gets in enough trouble to qualify," Hermione interjected.

"Yah, so…" Ron waited impatiently as his two friends exchanged a glance.

Smiling Hermione held out her hand to the center of the triangle they made, "I say yes."

Her hand was joined by two others as Harry and Ron cast their votes, "Well now that we have decided to ask him to join," she paused, "How do we actually ask him?"

Ron leaned forward, "Just like all of the great secret societies do! We send him an unsigned note and have him meet us somewhere dangerous. If he shows its 'cause he wants in."

"And if he doesn't it means he has too much good sense to come?" Hermione pricked his bubble.

"Well, I like the idea of a secret meeting," Harry, ever the peacemaker, stepped in, "But I agree with Hermione that we shouldn't do anything actually dangerous."

They wrote the note and decided on how to deliver it, then quietly they exited the tiny room with out being seen.

Instead of joining the group around the fire Hermione headed for the door. Curfew was now two hours later. It was one of the privileges that students got in their Fifth year. Hermione intended to use the extra time to finish the only assignment she hadn't completed, the mystery potion still did not have a name.

As she stepped through the picture, she slipped on a quill and almost lost her balance. Someone caught her just in time though. When she turned to thank her rescuer she smiled, "Neville, thank you for catching me."

"No, it was my fault," he blushed slightly, "I dropped my bag and everything spilled out. I guess I missed the quill." 

Picking up the assassin feather he smiled sheepishly and asked where she was headed.

"To the library, I can't find a potion that matches the description from class," she admitted. "I have a few more ideas, but I already spent one study hall searching and," she shrugged.

They walked together down the hal and Neville held the library door for her. "I'm having the same problem," he said. "But it doesn't seem so bad," he grinned, "if you're stumped it can't be because I'm a total washout." 

Smiling to Miss Pince as they passed her desk, Hermione waited until they had left their bags, on separate tables. It was an entirely independent work class and sharing information was forbidden.

She caught Neville's sleeve though and pulled him down a book aisle.

"What?" he asked.

"Neville, what are you doing in Potions Theory?" she whispered, "You dread going to potions and now you're taking an extra class with Snape?"

"It's my grandmother Hermi," he grimaced, "She wants me to take it. I know I'm no good at potions, but," he kicked at the carpet.

Looking away Hermione tried to tell him that that wasn't what she had meant, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead she tried to sound sympathetic to his tough situation. But there is only so much that can be said about the difficulties of being raised by a rather strict grandmother because your parents are in a mental hospital, if you haven't lived it.

"I have to get started on my research now," Neville apologized while backing into the main aisle way. "I know you're just trying to be polite Hermi, I'm not going to give up yet though," he flashed a quick smile and started his own search.


	13. Breakup

J K Rowling wrote the books, this is just a fanfic.

The line "The decade that good taste forgot," is a direct quote from my brother.

**Double R:** This is the chapter I asked for advice on. You were the only one who responded to my question. So chapter twenty-five is dedicated to you. 

Chapter Twenty-five:

"I missed you at dinner."

Snape looked toward the voice that came from the shadow of his open class room door. "Headmaster, I heard that you were back. Did everything go well?" 

Albus stepped into the hall with a sigh; "I managed to get the time extension. Minerva and I have worked out something that I think will be acceptable to everyone involved, Remus co-heads Gryffindor and Sinistra will be rejoining Ravenclaw. If you had come to the staff meeting tonight you would have known. It looks as though we are going to need to interview applicants for Huffelpuff and Slytherin, only." He gave Snape his best tell-me–what's-wrong look, but the dark professor remained silent. Sighing again Albus acknowledged his silence for what it was, a big red stop sign, "Were you going to check in on Remus? I heard from Sirius that he had quite the ordeal last night."

"Yes, to both. And before you ask it was my fault." They passed through the false wall that hid the corridor to Lupin and Black's rooms, "So you had the time to stop in and chat with Black as soon as you got back, but you sent Longbottom to my class without even a notice of transfer?"

Albus inadvertently flinched at the accusatory tone, "If I had given you notice, would you have accepted it?"

"It, or him?" Snape countered.

Albus stopped walking and Snape turned to face him, "You have never told me all that happened that night."

Coldly Snape turned and resumed his brisk pace down the hall; "I obey your commands, for now that is all I can give you."

Instead of following him, Albus' feet turned toward the door of Minerva McGonagall. Somehow she always seemed to know the words that would allay his concerns for the cynical professor.

As the Headmaster ascended the stairs to the main hallway, Snape felt the cloud of worry and fears that he was emanating withdraw from the dungeons. He did not slow until he was opposite the door to Lupin's chambers and then he came to a sudden stop. He stepped back just in time to avoid being trampled when Lupin and Black suddenly burst through the seemingly solid wall. Smoke billowed into the hall and was only cut off when the door closed itself.

Coughing and leaning against each other for support it was several minutes before either was able to speak. Lupin, due to his enhanced healing factor, was the first to regain his voice. With smoke induced tears he explained that Black had managed to blowup an entire case of crushed Ridgeback bones. (They had been intended for an in class demonstration on the totality of a magical animals magical properties. A Dragon is not just a fire breathing lizard magic infuses all aspects of it.)

"Well at least I don't have to ring that chime to get you out here." Snape had taken a great dislike to the tiny bells that announced Lupin's guests and anything that prevented him from needing to use it was a boon.

With a final cough Lupin wiped his eyes and straitened, "What did you want Snape? I'm sure you aren't coming to check up on me."

"Black has no doubt told you that I require another blood sample from you to complete the tests I am trying to run. I came to escort you to my lab."

Shoulders sagging, Remus asked Sirius if he could keep his wand in his quarters until he returned, "I can't very well go back into my rooms right now." 

"I'm coming too." Black announced.

Remus looked to Snape for a refusal but Snape had once again started walking away. Leaving them to decide on their own whether they would both be coming. He was a little surprised to find that Snape had waited for them in the hall between his classroom and the passage.

"The students are still running around. I thought it would be better if Black went first," he motioned them forward.

"Why should I go first?" Sirius questioned.

"No one is coming **out** of the dungeons, but someone might come **down** the stairs. If they see me first I doubt that they will even notice Lupin, let alone you."

It made sense so, reluctantly Sirius led the small procession to the alcove that doubled as the door to Snape's lab. Not sure what he should do when they reached it, he stepped into the cubbyhole. The door swung out to meet him and so he continued forward. When the door closed the stairwell was as dark as he remembered it being and the steps were as steep as ever. But knowing what was at the bottom of the stairs took away some of the Gothic-mystery feel of it all.

The stairs kept coming. _'I should have reached the bottom of this stupid staircase by now.'_ having failed to count the steps down on his first trip Sirius could only guess, but it felt as though they had gone much further than they should have.

"Uh, Snape," Remus quietly voiced, "This is the way to the lab, Right?" he too had noticed that it was taking a long time to reach the lab door.

"No not really," he sounded disturbingly unconcerned.

"What do you mean not really," Sirius stopped his descent. In the total darkness Lupin walked into him.

Too frightened and surprised to cry out Sirius felt the edge of the step he was on let go of him. The cool air took a fretting, snatching sort of grip on his hair and clothes as he fell into the well like center of the spiral-stairs. 

The last thing he saw was a slight glow, like the flash of a cat's eyes. Blue and with slit-like pupils, _'Like Aunt Beth's old Siamese. What a thing to remember now.'_ There was a sharp impact and the blackness was again complete.

Chapter Twenty-six:

For the second time that night Remus found himself, out of breath, tears in his eyes and bursting through a doorway. This time however he was rushing into the Headmaster's office followed immediately by Snape.

"Remus?" Albus stood and started to come from behind his desk.

"He's dead!" Lupin gasped, "He fell- I killed him! He fell! It was an accident- We were just going to the lab- I-"

"Shut up Lupin." Snape would have hexed him, but turned to Dumbledore instead. "I don't know what happened but **It** has Black now. That is all I'm sure of."

"He just stopped and I bumped him I didn't even see him- I couldn't it was-" 

"Lupin I'm warning you…" Snape took a step toward the hysterical man.

"**Hold,**" Albus said the one word firmly and raised one hand to add emphasis.

Both men froze.

"What happened," Albus asked of Snape, choosing the more coherent of the two.

Relaxing his ridged posture somewhat Snape huffed a breath between his teeth, "I do not know what happened. I stopped at the entrance to the staircase, the door was just closing and Lupin was standing there." He took step away from Remus before continuing, "He started raving like this and took off running. I followed him here and have been trying to piece together what happened."

As the Headmaster slowly approached Remus, Snape continued to back away until he reached the door.

"Now Remus," Dumbledore placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, "Tell me exactly what happened." 

Though his eyes were solemn and his touch was steady, Albus felt as though his world had just been dropped and broken into a million tiny shards. _'Severus said that he had gotten to Sirius, I only pray he got Sirius in time. But if he did, why doesn't he remember what he did with Sirius? What does this mean for our chances now?'_

With a shuddering gasp, Remus tried to regain control of himself, "Snape said he needed more blood, so w- we were going to the la- lab," he wiped at fresh tears and wrapped his arms around Albus. "I didn't mean to- I cu- couldn't see-" he began to sob again.

Rubbing small comforting circles on Remus' back Dumbledore turned to Snape again, "I left you in the passage not far from… their… rooms…" his words trailed off as Snape began to shake his head in an emphatic no.

"I have not seen you at all tonight," He lost what little color he had, "**It** got loose, that's the only explanation."

Gently Albus steered Remus to a sofa and urged him to sit. Drawing his wand he summoned a pot of chamomile tea and poured three cups of the steaming liquid. Without a word he handed one to Remus, placed one on the end table beside the sofa, and took the last for himself.

Making sure that Lupin drank all of his tea first, Albus allowed him to speak as he refilled their cups.

Remus whipped at his eyes. "I don't understand," he looked to Snape, "What do you mean? Are you saying you weren't there, at all?"

"What happened Lupin? What did you see," Snape's curt questions only confused him more and Remus looked to Albus for help.

With a rarely seen warning in his eye, Dumbledore glanced at Snape then softened his expression as he turned to the WereWolf at his side. "Remus maybe you could start with what happened at, erm…"

"Seven-thirty," Snape offered from the door.

With his head resting in his hands Lupin recounted stumbling into the hallway and nearly colliding with Snape, his insistence that they go to the lab, with Sirius in the lead. And the stairs, seeming longer than they had been on his previous trips to the lab. 

Numbly holding out his cup for more tea, which Albus quickly provided, Remus looked around, "Where is Snape?" there was still a tremor in his voice.

@---,--'--------

Cradling his left arm with his right Snape hurried to the dungeon stairs. _'I haven't got time to look for Black, I don't even have time to tell the Headmaster.'_

Searing pain shot through his arm and he stumbled, _'Potter?'_ The hall appeared to be deserted, but he had learned to trust his sixth sense. "Potter, go, tell the Headmaster that I have been summoned." 

Gritting his teeth as another white-hot flair stabbed through him, _'What could be so urgent that he needs to yank on me like I'm a bleeding bell rope?' _Taking up his cloak and mask he threaded his way down a maze of narrow side passages.

~

Apparating to the Dark Lord's chosen meeting place was done blindly. No one knew where they would find themselves once they disapparated. It could be a fog enshrouded clearing in a forest, or a dimly lit and spacious dining hall. 

Snape cautiously looked first left, then right. He was in a fairly comfortable hallway. There were oil paintings with gilt frames, which contrasted nicely with the dark wood paneling, and a few widely spaced doors on either wall.

Holding his breath for a moment he strained to catch any sound that might betray someone else's presence. He seemed to be alone. A slight noise to his left drew his attention. A door handle several paces down from where he stood was slowly being turned. The stooping figure of Wormtail scurried into the hall and motioned that he should enter.

_'Looks like another private audience,'_ flashes of the disaster that had been his last meeting with Voldemort flashed up in his mind. A knot formed in his stomach as he remembered throwing up and passing out, _'At least I've already thrown up once today.'_

As he brushed past Pettigrew he saw a mix of hate and envy in the withered half-mad man's eyes. _'Pettigrew envying me? Not a good sign,'_ Snape registered the look and promptly filed it away.

Two steps into the room and the door closed behind him. There were heavy shades on the few lamps; the Dark Lord did not like bright light. The air was warm, almost stiflingly close, the Dark Lord also did not like cool drafts. Images of his nightmarish meeting earlier in the week were replaced with more recent memories. Finding Lupin in the stairwell, deciphering enough of his ramblings to understand that Black had fallen. 

Sinking to his knees in front of Voldemort he did not notice the tears that began to slide from the corners of his eyes. It was not torture or violence but too much stress and not enough food or sleep, which finally crushed him. 


	14. The Shell Game

I didn't invent all of this myself. Some (most) of it is the work of J. K. Rowling.

Are my incessant disclaimers annoying you yet?

I have started an update alert list for this fic. If you're interested then drop me a review.

Chapter Twenty-seven:

He felt the pressure of a hand on his head, but Snape did not respond. 

"Rise," came the expected command, yet still he could not bring himself to move.

Worry tinged the voice of the Dark Lord as he again called for Snape to stand. 

Slowly Voldemort knelt and drew back Snape's hood. Carefully he lifted Snape's chin and removed his mask. "Did you get the test results-ss?" He noticed the tears and his heart leapt into his throat, "Severus-ss, what is-s wrong?"

He gave up trying to hold himself together. It was too painful. He tried to lower his face to hide his tears. But could not find the will to fight the slight resistance under his chin, and closed his eyes instead.

"Come," placing his hands on Severus' shoulders he drew the broken man to his feet and helped him to move across the room to a wide couch. _'Oh Severus, how could that fool Dumbledore allow you to destroy yourself so? Your strength is a paper-thin façade, and your fear has only grown.' _He bitterly resented the time that had been lost.

Vaguely, Snape remembered Albus going through the same motions with Lupin, _'The Werewolf was out of his mind then. Am I?' _"It got loose."

Waiting for him to continue, Voldemort decided on a course of action. 

Looking into the fire in the stone hearth before the couch, Snape released a pent-up breath. "I have not been sleeping. I think it's the Plastijuice. I haven't been holding down more than half the meals I eat, and I haven't been tying to eat more than, maybe a few times a week." A soothingly cool hand brushed through his hair and pushed the black locks out of his eyes. "I was tired, I went to sleep. It got loose and took Lupin and Black-" he stopped.

Touching his shoulder Voldemort murmured, "The Werewolf and the one whom Pettigrew framed for the Potters-ss?" He asked for clarification only. Snape noticed that he did not ask why he had **not** been told that they were both at the school.

"Master I-"

With a slight shake of his head, he silenced Snape's panicked confession, "Continue S-severus-ss. I wish to know what has-s s-so disturbed you. I wish to help you, if you will allow me." He raised a hand to touch the tear-dampened cheek, "You mean a great deal to me, S-severus-ss."

Voldemort had always treated him like this, but, in the back of his mind something registered as different about the touch.

"Master, it must have broken free while I was asleep. It was taking them somewhere- I don't even know what it was trying to accomplish!" his voice shook and the hand on his cheek responded by rubbing slow circles on his temple. He closed his eyes and accepted the comfort. "It was guarding their backs," with his eyes closed Snape did not see the slight frown that tugged at Voldemort's mouth. "I think Black was in the lead and in the dark, Lupin must have stumbled into h-him." The hitch in his voice was not for Black and they both knew it, "Lupin was alone when I found him in the stairwell. I think it went after Black." Tears of failure beaded on his lashes, "I could not keep it locked away. Master I have fai-" 

Tentatively, he placed a hand on either side of Snape's face and dried the tears with his thumbs, "You have done all that you could S-severus-ss." Silently he waited until Snape looked up, "If you will allow me, I can help you to drive it away forever."

His entire being trembled, "How?" 

_*No! You can not do this. You can not betray Albus like this. Fight him!*_

In answer the Master leaned forward and brushed his lips against his servant's forehead, "You are no longer a child, Ss-severus-ss," he murmured. The silk cape whispered a warning as it fell to the richly carpeted floor. He could hear Snape's breath quicken. 

Snape felt the small voice of discord that had urged him to fight, draw back and fall silent. "I have never-" his uncertain protest ended in a gasp as the Dark Lord moved to kiss his mouth.

It took a great deal of self-control, but Voldemort did not take advantage of the slightly parted lips beneath his own. With a practiced hand he removed Snape's Frock coat then vest and shirt baring his chest, "If you had, you would not be worthy." The compact muscle he discovered beneath the pale skin was a surprise. Snape was a good deal stronger than his slight frame let on. _'Perhaps he swims?'_

Recruiting him had been a strategic move. Rather than foolishly trying to keep track of -which goblet held the poison- the rising Dark Lord had boldly taken up the cup that he knew was intended for him. At the time it had caused enough confusion in the ministry and among Albus' pathetic –Order of the Phoenix- to work in his favor. Now however, the temptation to drink of that heady, lethal draught was nearly overpowering. 

Somewhere though, he found the strength to pull back before he undid all that he had done. Through the Darkmark he had felt the creature draw back at his touch. The link it had with Snape was temporarily abandoned. Snape was once again his willing tool, "You must return to the school soon." he wanted to feel the warm smooth chest again, but settled for a long look into eyes as empty as oblivion. "I spoke to you before, of that which Dumbledore betrayed you over, and a task that I had for you." 

Snape felt the words rattle through him as though his body were hollow. They words had no real meaning, but he nodded as expected.

"She is going to seek to attain the position of female head of Slytherin. Your bond with her will enable you to cage it forever." _'Then I will not need to hold back.' _Visions of finally tasting the one thing that he had denied himself before his exile (as he preferred to think of that time) blinded him to the vacancy in Snape's gaze.

Chapter Twenty-eight: 

Harry froze when Snape suddenly walked around the corner. He was obviously on his way to the dungeons, and up to no good. So when Snape stopped and, clutching his left arm to his chest, called Harry's name he was certain that he was in very big trouble.

The mere question of **how** Snape had known he was even there vanished from his mind when Snape ordered him to tell the Headmaster that he had been summoned. 

Instantly Harry's mind was drawn back to the previous year. When Snape had pulled back his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark high on his left forearm, he had revealed to everyone present that he had been aligned with the Deatheaters. Obviously he had been summoned by Voldemort and trusted Harry enough to have him relay that message to Albus.

Moving quickly while covered by the invisibility-cloak was difficult, so Harry took a moment to stuff it into his robe before running in the direction of the Headmaster's office.

The Gargoyle at the door to the Headmaster's office was not cooperating. Harry had begun to lose patients with the charmed stone figure. Having gone through every candy he could think of at the moment. Footsteps pounded in the still hall behind him but with classical Gryffindor courage (or stubbornness) he again rattled off the name of every sweet he could think of. Whoever was coming was either in more trouble than he, or had something more important on their mind than taking points from Gryffindor. At least he hoped so.

The figure of a robed man lurched into the hall and made for the Gargoyle. Labored breathing and a stitch in his side ate away at his stride but he continued onward.

So focused on his task he did not notice Harry, who had stepped into the shadow of the Gargoyle. Leaning forward on his knees the man softly cursed the long flight of stairs to the dungeon, "Incandescent-Glow-Pops," he managed to catch his breath to speak the password.

Instantly Harry recognized the voice, "Sirius!" he cried stepping away from the shadows.

The Gargoyle grudgingly moved aside, it had been enjoying the rare attention it had been getting.

"Harry?" Sirius gaped for a moment at the teen before him. His godson had grown since the last time he had seen him. 

Sirius took the time to wrap Harry in a fiercely loving hug, then told the youth that he had to hurry to Albus' chambers.

"I was going there too," Harry said following Black up the rotating spiral stairwell. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Sirius had been muttering about the ill luck of being on another spiral stair, "I hope you can find time between your studies and Quiditch to come down and visit me," he changed the subject. 

It was said with a light air but Harry caught the look Sirius darted from the corner of his eye, "Wait," Harry stopped and grabbed for Sirius' sleeve. He flinched back but Harry failed to notice, "Are you staying here?!"

"Yes, in the dungeons." 

"Great! But, oh man. Do you have to spend time with Snape too?" They resumed their dash up the stairs.

"I have been seeing entirely too much of that git for my own good." Harry was going to ask what he meant but then they reached the door and-

Sirius did not bother knocking, it had said he would be expected. It was right, there was even a cup of tea already poured and waiting for him.

"What happened to you?!" Remus demanded. Once he was satisfied that Sirius had in fact survived his fall he tried, and failed, to give his friend some space as Dumbledore suggested. 

"What happened to Snape," Sirius asked of Dumbledore. Ignoring Remus question.

Remus watched dazedly as Albus retrieved the teacup from the end table and handed it to Sirius, who was stuck on the sofa between Harry and himself, "You knew he was alright the whole time?!" he couldn't believe it.

With a slight twinkle in his eye, Albus sat on a rather hideously floral-patterned love seat across from the threesome. "Both Professor Snape and I tried to tell you that he had gone after Sirius."

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry jumped in suddenly remembering why he had come, "Professor Snape, he asked me to tell you that he had 'been summoned'."

"Snape," Sirius repeated under his breath.

Albus looked to the floor for a moment, "Thank you Harry," he sent out a silent prayer for Severus' protection and tried to cheer somewhat, for Harry's sake, "I had not expected you to be coming also, Harry, would you care for a cup of tea, or cocoa?"

Harry accepted a mug of the warm chocolate drink and sat back to try and eavesdrop on what was going on.

"You know about it?" Sirius impatiently tried to steer/force the conversation back to a more important topic than hot beverages. He passed his empty cup to Harry, who put it back on the table, "and Snape knows about it too?" he leaned forward.

"Yes," Albus cautiously acknowledged.

"What **it** are you two talking about?" Lupin asked.

Sirius looked to Albus. 

"Snape was not the one who was leading you to the lab tonight." Albus told them. Harry was only confused, Sirius and Remus were speechless.

"But I saw him," Lupin objected.

"You saw him?" the Headmaster raised a white brow. "You saw him clearly?"

Suddenly doubtful Remus hesitated, "Well no, there was smoke. Then he walked ahead of us down the hall to the intersection with the main corridor."

"And then he stayed behind us and let me lead the way down the stairs." Black added.

Albus nodded, "I thought as much. He has lived in secret too long to make a mistake that any but the few who know of him, could detect." Seeing the confusion on the faces before him, Albus took pity on them, "It appears that I know more of what happened in the dungeons tonight than you do." He conjured a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of chilled pumpkin juice, "This explanation may take some time."

"So you're saying that, that wasn't Snape, not at all?" Black persisted. "Because when-"

"It will take longer if you keep interrupting me," he smiled. "He looks enough like our Professor Snape that, in the poor lighting of the dungeon I would have been very surprised had you been able to tell them apart. Both are roughly the same height and weight. They both have black hair and-"

"But its eyes glow in the dark!" Sirius jerked to his feet nearly upsetting the Sandwich tray, "Smoke and bad lighting can't add up to enough to hide that."

"And," Albus continued, "he has the ability to dim or extinguish the glow of his eyes. I think it has to do with the dilation and contraction of his pupils"

Albus explained that he had the ability to open the door to the stairwell and could also open doors off of the stairwell. "He was only telling you the truth when he said that the stairs led nowhere, they don't. In fact they don't even exist unless he opens the door in the hall first."

Suspicion was easy to read in Remus' face and guarded posture. Albus spoke reassuringly, "You do not need to be afraid of him. After all he risked his life to save Sirius. " 

Eventually Harry began to doze. Hearing that his godfather had nearly died was not as troubling as it would have been, had Sirius not been right there beside him and obviously healthy. When he fell asleep Albus changed the subject of conversation to a very delicate topic.

"What I really need to speak with the both of you about is **why** I placed you in the dungeons. You see my intention was to force a situation like the one that developed tonight." Before either could interrupt again Albus hurried, " Over the many years that they have shared the dungeons he has bonded with Professor Snape. I am hoping that the bond is not fully set. I believe that making the effort to save you," he turned to Sirius, "is a sign that he has begun to take the two of you on as Charges." He looked toward the clock on the mantle, "I think we should put off further discussion until a more appropriate hour. Perhaps you should ask him to explain when you see him next." Albus vanished the tray as Sirius took one last triangle of chicken salad on whole wheat. 

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Remus hated to ask Sirius, but knew that he couldn't not ask.

Sirius nearly choked on his sandwich in shock, "No."

"I think it is the wolf in him," Albus quietly intervened. "We are just one night past the full moon. Perhaps the three of you would care to stay here for the night?"

Sofas were made up as improvised beds and arranged into a horseshoe around the fireplace. Remus took the end opposite the fire so that Sirius could lay and watch Harry sleep.

~

As the sun snuck a first peak at the school grounds Sirius blinked and rolled to his side. Harry was on a burgundy and bronze embroidered couch that looked more like a daybed. He watched Harry sleep for a few minutes before the boy began to stir from his own slumber.

"Sirius?" he mumbled still very groggy and fumbling for his glasses.

"Pst, Harry," he called softly.

That snapped him wide-awake. He flung back the light blanket that had been tucked in around him and was about to jump up.

"Shh," Sirius pointed to the floor next to his own sofa/bed.

Harry almost laughed. On the floor next to his godfather lay Professor Lupin. He had, at some point in the night, left his own couch and curled up on the rug beside Sirius.

"He was like this in school," Sirius whispered. "Whenever one of us got hurt or he was worried about us, or anything, he would end up on the floor beside our beds." He chuckled softly, "One really cold winter, I woke up with him on the foot of my bed."

~

It was decided that Harry would go back to his dorm and try to act as though he hadn't been away all night, and that Sirius should return to the dungeons during breakfast. The halls would be empty and the odds of discovery lower.

Harry reluctantly closed the Headmasters door and, with his Invisibility-cloak on, made his way to Gryffindor tower. Albus had left nearly an hour earlier, to give Sirius and Harry time together, and Remus had quietly read a book while sitting on one of the wide windowsills. 

When Harry had gone he put down the book. "You didn't betray him," Remus commented.

Turning to face him Sirius shrugged, "What are you talking about?"

Remus slanted him a who-do-you-think-you're-talking-to look, "You've always blamed yourself for James and Lilly's' deaths." He walked to the door, "You did what you thought was the smartest thing to do. If you hadn't said anything they would still be dead and you would be too." He was about to shut the door when he stepped back into the room and grabbed Sirius' shoulder. "I'm not sure what I would have done if you had died back then. When I thought you had died last night," he shook his head and quickly exited, closing the door behind.


	15. Opening Moves

Some of this is mine and some of it is Rowling's and some of it is probably based on things I've read in other fics, (I read a LOT of fanfic.) But an ever increasing percentage of it is mine.

I have started an update alert list for this fic. If you're interested then drop me a review. Please? 

Chapter Twenty-nine:

"I heard you were leaving us." Severa gave no indication that she had heard the overly sly voice of Ms. Iceradey.

She maintained her brisk pace and continued to head for the dungeons, _'I wonder why they always seem to put Potions in the dungeons.'_

_*Maybe it's so they don't have to be reminded of the walking dead on the faculty? *_

The halls were dark and deserted. Nearly everyone was at breakfast.

"Rumor has it you're going to Hogwarts," the Advanced Curses professor matched Severa's stride.

"Rumor is faster than fact then," they descended the stairs together, "I have not even applied. Yet."

As they moved through the subterranean halls Severa mouthed a rapid and unintelligible string of release charms that disabled the wards (and hexes) designed to block students from entering without her permission. Safely inside the classroom Severa was again bombarded with double-edged questions. 

"Who told you that there was a position about to open? What happened to their Potions Master, what was his name? I can't keep all of you strait, you all look the same."

"It comes with the job, there aren't that many of us, and what did you want?" Severa answered with a distracted, almost unconscious openness. It had been a long day and it was only six am. _'Oh, Friday how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.' _

"Moody, I want to buy some of your stock. You can't possibly transport it all out of the country. And they can't possibly refuse you. Not with your connections." 

The intentionally poorly disguised attempt to lure her into boasting did not have the hoped for reverse psychology effect. In all her twenty-two years at Durmstrang no one had been able to discover how Severa got things done that should have been impossible. Like the time she got the Headmaster's own son expelled. It had become an unspoken competition to see who could get more information out of her. One favorite theory was that she was watched over by a certain person who-must-not-be-named. 

"I have no problem selling you anything that you want. As long as I have it in stock…" She did not bother to add a probing look. It would have been lost on the inside-the-box-thinking woman. Severa instead began to unpack and put away the ingredients that she had bought with next week's Ninth Level Potions in mind.

"I am interested specifically in the er- concoction that you used on Dimitry last Winter Solstice Break."

Severa quirked an eyebrow, "I was reprimanded for actually using it on a human. You do remember the favored rumor at that time was that I had to sleep with the entire Board of Administrations to keep my job?"

Not a flicker was to be seen in the midnight gray of Iceradey's eyes and not a hair was ruffled in her painfully tight waist length braid as she shrugged off the warning, "I am not so prone to foolish indiscretion that I would actually use it. The sincere threat is enough."

Pulling out another jar of some sort of slimy larvae Severa double-checked the contents before placing it on a shelf beside several others that looked exactly like it. "How much are you interested in?"

"How long can it remain potent?" Iceradey countered.

"If you leave out the last two ingredients until an hour before you want to use it," she stepped away from the shelf and fussily realigned a few containers.

"How long," as soon as she asked a second time, Iceradey bit her tongue. She had just given away her only card. Severa now knew that she desperately wanted the potion. _'And Moody never sells. It's always a trade, a favor for a debt.'_

"It will last at least five years, if mixed. If left incomplete it should have a shelf life of about sixty years. I have one case of it that they didn't find and confiscate."

"What would you want for it?"

Severa thought for a moment, "I have already gotten your assistance in securing my dungeon. I'm leaving soon so I don't expect to need any help with collecting saliva from the Grimwold." She knew that her colleague was going to be less than happy with the deal that she was about to offer, "Your broach."

Iceradey's hand flew to her throat, and the large ancestral broach there, "No. Not even if I thought it was all you would ask for."

"Not the Box Broach, the Trefoil." Severa spoke as though it were of no consequence. "It does you no good as you can not access the stone it holds, and the surplus elixir does me no good taking up room in my cubby."

Iceradey's laugh sounded like falling scree, "Don't think that you can tell me you don't know it isn't a stone. We both know it is a Parramorph's egg, and worth your weight in gold."

Severa glanced at the universal clock on the wall behind her desk, "I have a class in twenty minutes. Was there anything else you wanted?" She sat behind her desk and arranged the few papers she would be handing back to the students. "I ask a Parramorph's egg and I offer you the ability to protect yourself, untraceablely."

Iceradey halted in the doorway, "Untraceably? Then how did you get caught?" 

"I forced him to swallow it," Severa puffed at her bangs and hung up her cloak. "He would not open his mouth so I cut a hole in his throat and poured it in." She grinned with over sweetness; the shock on the stiff lipped Professor's face was worth the breach in Standard Operating Procedure. 

SOP went something like, Never tell anyone anything.

~ 

Evening meal was still in attendance as Severa wended her way toward the Physical Education Room. 

The PE room was unique to Durmstrang. It was a room within the actual structure of the school, that was magic free. The charms needed to keep a balance of energy between that one room and the rest of the school were incredibly powerful and complex. All of the effort that had gone into it had been well worth it though. Durmstrang was the only school that could boast of graduating Wizards and Witches that could handle **anything**. With or with out a wand. 

She clutched a large three-lobed pin in her hand. Iceradey had broken down and made the trade. As she had expected, it had caused greater resentment to boil out of the older woman, but that didn't matter.

_'A viable Parramorph's egg! It is worth **more** than my weight in gold.'_

_*Ha, that's in the wandering market, if you could find it.*_

_'No, I can't sell it.'_

_*Well you can't hatch it either. That kind of unframed magic is way outside of your range.*_

_'I need to hide it till I can get it out of here safely.'_

She silently opened the solid oak door to the PE room and ducked inside. Moments later she emerged empty handed and unseen.

Chapter Thirty:

Just past midnight Tuesday morning Snape stood, leaning over his sink, brushing his teeth. He had just thrown up and was trying to remove the last of the residual sludge. He spit one final time and reached to put away his toothbrush. Something in the mirror caught his eye.

It was there behind him. Luminous eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Then it was gone. 

"So," he sighed putting his toothbrush away, "you're back."

Snape, head down, walked back to his bed. He pulled the covers up to his waist. The mattress shifted slightly, as It crawled up to him. He felt Its cool breath on his face and a slight blue-ish glow filtered through his closed eyelids.

It looked down at him for a few moments then, laying its head upon his chest; it curled up at his side.

His right hand came to rest on Its upturned cheek, "I need to do this."

It closed Its eyes. The universe shrank to just the two of them and the few places they intersected each other. "I know," It hoarsely whispered. "I will fight for you."

"I know." Snape would have cursed the tremor in his voice, if he had heard it.

Again It whispered, "You do not need to lay with him, to banish me."

"It is the only choice I have." Snape spoke softly. "If I lay with him I will be free of you. If I don't…" 

"No." Its voice faded, "It is a choice between your body and your mind." 

He felt the mattress shift again. Snape lay alone in the dark with his hand over his heart. Eventually he slept.

~

With unutterable reluctance Snape made his way to the dining hall for breakfast. _'I wonder what that Malfoy, meant when he said that he was signing up too?_'

_*Just hope it wasn't something you missed at a staff meeting. Last time the Headmaster came down to check on things…*_ He shuddered at the memory of that intrusion, and all it had spawned.

The only seat available was beside Lupin and as Snape sat, to his great vexation, the Were Wolf turned to face him.

"Snape," Remus tried to sound pleasant while addressing the Potions Master. "Haven't seen much of you for a while now." He added softly for Snape only, "Which is strange seeing as we are both living in the dungeons."

Goblet in hand and halfway to his mouth Snape spoke without seeming to pause, "I'm sorry if my lack of presence has given you the impression that you need to speak with me." He took a long drink of wine. 

(His was the only glass at the head table that held wine and it was only at his special insistence that he had been granted it.)

"Severus?" Dumbledore broke away from his conversation with Sinistra for a moment, "Do be more kind."

With a smile that should have killed one, or both, of them he turned to Lupin again, "I have been in my classroom and my study," he shot a look at the back of Albus' white head, "Thank you for asking." Immediately he began to eat, merrily spearing a piece of liver.

Remus winced. The message was clear; it could just as easily be him on the end of that fork.

~

_'Breakfast could have gone worse, I'm just sure of it. Otherwise there is no reason to keep getting up each day.' _He had left early, but now it was time to get up again. '_There always has to be something worse out there, right?'_

_*Fifth-year potions next, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Can't wait to see what Longbottom comes up with…*_

"I'm not going." Snape's voice hung in the air, "I know you're lurking in here somewhere. You go." With that he rolled over and fell back to sleep.

~

Harry was furious. Snape had been focusing on Neville, Practically driving the boy to a nervous breakdown. _'We all know that Neville is already upset because his Grandmother is sick. None of the other professors would ever even think of getting on his case right now.' _He was sitting at a lab table, taking out his anger by pulverizing the Orris root they had dried last week. It wasn't working, _'How can anyone be that heartless, that cruel?'_ His arm was beginning to get sore from the jarring motion, _'The bloody, stupid, greasy, sadistic-'_

Long, tapered, fingers touched his desktop and Harry was suddenly aware of a pair of sleeves and torso caging him in.

Snape leaned in further, until the front of his robe just brushed the eternally tangled locks of a very startled Harry Potter and his own hair screened the boy's peripheral vision. "The bloody, stupid, greasy, sadistic, what?" he purred.

Terror. Harry would have marveled at Snape so accurately reading his mind. He would have looked to Ron for help. He might have even run, but **terror **froze his thoughts before they could become actions. Mentally he struggled to recall whether he had felt this frightened before. _'When that Dementor was about to eat my soul I was very scared.'_ Sweat trickled down his back, _'When I was tied to the tombstone and Voldemort touched me, and nothing happened to him, I was really scared.'_

As Snape bent over Harry, everyone stopped working and shifted around for a better view. Whispered inquiries as to what Harry had said went unanswered by other students as Snape repeated it for them. Breathlessly they strained their ears to catch what **the boy who lived** would say next.

"Well Mister Potter? What were you going to say next?"

_'Is he really daring me?'_ The subtle challenge in Snape's tone tweaked Harry's Gryffindor nerve. Because he was essentially pinned in place he could not say it to Snape's face, so he stared straight ahead and spoke clearly, "The bloody, stupid, greasy, sadistic, **bastard Snape**."

Some of the students gasped others gaped. Ron was sure it was the last thing he would ever hear Harry say, and Hermione nearly fainted. 

A loud gong-like crash resounded throughout the chamber. "**AAAHHK**!" Harry shouted jumping from his seat, sure that he was about to die. When he jumped his shoulders connected rather forcefully with Snape's upper chest and the top of his head hit Snape's chin. 

He had been turning, something at a nearby cauldron did not look right. With his attention split Potter's spasm-for-life threw him off balance. Snape twisted around as he fell but did not have time to catch himself. His head was thrown back as he hit the corner of one of the stone lab tables. There was an audible snap and he crumpled to the floor.


	16. First Strike

I would like to thank JKR for letting me borrow her toys. (Well at least she didn't say I couldn't.)

**Frogfoot24: You really got your Headmaster's son kicked out? It's nice to know that my informants are accurate. ;) **

Another link to a pic by Sunna it applies to the second half of this chapter http:// www .side7. com /cgi-bin /S7SDB /DisplayImg .pl?INO =257776 

Chapter Thirty-one:

Everything went to hell in a hand-basket from there. A few Gryffindor girls screamed. Harry spun on his heel so fast, that he slipped in Neville's spilled potion. A pair of strong hands caught him from behind.

"Get those Gryffs out of the way," Draco ordered with a jut of his perfect chin while trying to get Harry back on his feet. 

Harry tried to take in what was going on, but it was too chaotic. _'No,'_ he corrected himself with a rather detached air, _'It's not chaos, it's almost like they're running around knowing exactly what to do.'_

Every Slytherin in the room had a drawn wand and was efficiently performing a specific task. Some were directing the frightened Gryffindors to the other end of the room, another group was taking care of the mess under the guidance of- _'Crabbe and Goyle? Are they actually leading the cleanup?'_ Harry blinked. A small group had run out the door and headed in the direction of their common room.

Draco made sure that Harry was firmly on his feet before kneeling beside Snape. Looking up Malfoy scanned the milling crowd, "Pansy!" He shouted above the hysterical cries of the girls. "Professor?" he called. Snape hadn't moved. Quickly she joined him and they had a hurried, whispered conference that ended with Draco telling her to, "Just get it done **now**." 

She stood and approached the corner where the most frightened students were clinging to each other. 

"He's-dead-he's-dead-he's-dead," Parvatti chanted over and over. 

Several other students (girls and boys) were mumbling or crying or stuttering basically the same thing. There was confusion and fear and a lot of noise.

Pansy raised her wand and placed a silencing charm on the entire group. "Done." She called back to Draco, who was now working with three other Slytherins to put Snape onto his back while keeping his neck immobilized. 

Harry was frozen in place. 

As they carefully turned Snape over Draco watched for any sign of movement, "Where are those gofers?" he demanded of no one in particular. "Professor," he called more urgently, "Sir, we need you to confirm."

Dazedly, Harry approached and knelt beside Draco.

The Slytherin shook his head, leaned back to see around Harry, "Gloves!" he called to a dorm mate then spoke to Harry, "If you're going to stay here you'd better be ready. I think he's gonna sizzle." 

Quickly Dragon hide gloves were relayed to Harry and he put them on with out thinking. He had noticed that everyone who had heard the prediction tensed, "What do you mean sizzle?"

With a gloved hand, Draco brushed at the blood on Snape's face. He had bitten his lip and the blood was getting every where. There was a large rapidly swelling bruise on the right side of Snape's face where he had hit the table. His eye was swollen shut and his cheek seemed distorted.

"It's broken," Draco confirmed softly. "The swelling is kind of hiding it but if you compare his right cheek to his left…" 

Harry did and was sickened to find that Snape's right cheek was indeed sunken where the bone should have been. The distended purpling flesh was continuing to swell.

"He won't be seeing anything with that eye for a while," Draco forced a tight laugh, then muttered under his breath, "If it keeps swelling like this the skin is gonna split."

It struck Harry that Draco seemed to be trying to make light of the whole mess, _'To calm me, or him?'_

Snape's breathing became more forced. Not like he couldn't get air in, more like he couldn't get it out. He shuddered and without waking he rolled to his left side and began shivering violently.

"Is he having a seizure," Harry tried to ask. Some one burst into the room and a smallish black case was passed from the panting figure leaning against the door, through a relay of several waiting hands, and eventually reaching an impatient Draco.

With practiced movements he opened the case and laid out a hideously large old-fashioned needle that looked more like a torture device than a medical tool and phial of clear liquid, "Get his arm," he called as Snape began to curl into a fetal ball. 

Crabbe and Goyle worked to force Snape's arm to straiten. While Draco filled the syringe and Pansy tied a tourniquet on the unconscious professor's upper arm. 

"He's starting to sizzle," Draco explained to the Gryffindor at his side. The film of sweat on his brow contradicted his calm manner. "This kind of thing happens every once in a while. He's taught us what to do." he tried a reassuring smile, but knew it was not going to work.

~

Lunch was a subdued affair; the normal chatter and fooling around were painfully absent. Everyone who had been there was quietly sharing information and those who had not been present were spreading rumors. Some claimed that Snape was dead, they were in the minority. Most talked about the Slytherin-uprising that had supposedly taken place. Professor Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey, and Snape were absent from the meal. Not even Ron bothered to point it out this time. Everyone knew.

As they left the Great Hall Harry Hermione and Ron chose to hold back a bit rather than join their Housemates. They did not notice the presence of the three Slytherins until Draco stepped forward.

"Do you need to get hit in the head too, before you get it?" he sneered in his best Snape impression.

Harry didn't bother to stop for his reply, "Shut up Malfoy." He sensed Ron tensing as Crabbe and Goyle came out to stand beside their leader.

Draco grabbed Harry's arm and forced his to stop, "Half the free world licks your boots and you're too childish to hold your tongue when nothing is on the line."

"I didn't ask for this," Harry shot back with a gesture toward his scar.

Draco scoffed, "None of us ask for the lives we get Potter. You didn't ask to have your parents killed, and I didn't ask to be born to parents that would beat me." He shook his head rejecting Harry's statement, "It doesn't matter. What does matter are the things we do ask for. We ask for the consequences of our actions. The choices we make determine what those consequences will be." 

Draco shook his head again, this time though Harry noticed that his shoulders drooped. The three Slytherins left as silently as their Head of House had taught them to. The three Gryffindors stood rooted where they had been left.

After a time Hermione broke the silence, "I want to go to bed now." 

Chapter Thirty-two:

He sat on the edge of the bed in the medical wing waiting for permission to leave. Albus had been less than pleased to hear of the disaster that had been first period. Cheekbone re-knit and split skin under his eye mended, it was just a waiting game now. The wide swath of gauze that encircled his head was starting to get irritating and there was nothing to do about any of it.

A swish of robes, the parting of the privacy curtain, and the Headmaster's familiar scent began to fill the cubicle. 

"What were you thinking?" Albus nearly exploded as he placed a soundproofing charm on the small enclosure.

Shrugging he did not turn from the blank wall that had just become rather interesting, for some reason.

Sighing deeply Albus took the visitor's seat, "Can I at least see how bad the damage is?"

Reluctantly he turned to face the Headmaster.

Grimacing Albus got up and, after a questioning look and the slight nod of a response, he removed the thick gauze bandage Pomfrey had wrapped around his head. "I do not think he will be pleased," it was a moot point.

Rolling his open blue-black eye he chuckled, "Yah, well now he'll have a good reason to kill me." He looked away uncomfortably, "He won't want to have me around until it heals, and I heal faster when I'm out."

That was news, "You heal faster on the outside? You've done this before?"

He moved back to sit cross-legged in the center of the bed, "Second-year. At least, I think it was." Nervously he laced his fingers and hunched forward to lean on his knees. "I don't care what he does now," speaking more to himself than to Albus. "I can't take the darkness any more," he shook his head, "He's turned. There's no softness in his heart now."

Throat dry Albus licked his lips, "What **exactly** are you saying?"

Head skewed to the right so that he could make eye contact he whispered, "You must kill him."

Albus absorbed the statement, then changed the subject, "Here," he handed back the bandage, "There was someone who wanted to come in and see you. Are you up for it?"

Again he shrugged, rather than actually committing to an answer. He did however reapply the bandage.

"I'll take that as a yes." Albus sounded calm, but he smelled worried. "He is very anxious to see you in person. I was rather surprised. He must have done quite a bit of growing up over the summer."

"I won't hurt Longbottom. You should know that," he was focusing on the wall.

The Headmaster released the privacy charm and stepped to the door to wave Neville in from the hall. 

Neville had opted to await the verdict on his visit, from a safe distance. His first choice would have been the Astronomy tower, but the hall was okay.

As he hesitated outside the curtained space Dumbledore gave the timid Gryffindor a pat on the back, "I think Madame Pomfrey gave him something to keep him quiet." Seeing Neville relax a little, Albus took his leave and headed to his private chambers. _'Kill him?! If only it were that easy…'_


	17. What's His Problem?

I don't own what I didn't invent.

**Can someone help me with a Scottish accent? I am an American with no exposure to "foreign" culture. **

**–shrug – Hey, it's for Hagrid!**

****Thank you to Sunna and Hope. You have been very helpful and your consistent reviewing has been wonderful.****

And thanks Hope for pointing out that I was miss spelling Alastor's name (through the entire fic!)

And thanks to harrypotter4ever for correcting my corrections.

AND thanks to Sunna for correcting me on the color of Alastor's hair.

Chapter Thirty-three:

_'It's just like facing the Boggart.' _Neville tried to tell himself, _'Except a Rididlkulus charm won't help.'_ He took another step forward and was able to see the Potions Master around the curtain. 

The Potion Master was wearing one of the white infirmary outfits and was sitting in the middle of his bed with his back to Neville. The greasy black hair that was not covered by the crisp white bandage, was the only bit of color in the room. 

_'Well he doesn't look too murderously enraged, right now.'_ "Sir," it was taking all of his Gryffindor courage, but he knew he had to do this. "Sir, I need to speak with you. If that's alright."

"Mister Longbottom, there is a small closet in the wall to your left." He did not turn around, _'It would probably make him faint out of fear if I did.' _"Would you get the handkerchief from my right robe pocket? Pomfrey has charmed the bed. If I get up a siren follows me until I get back on the bed."

Neville obediently began searching for the requested handkerchief. Opening the closet door he was surrounded by the scent that clung to the Potion Master's clothes. _'It reminds me of the greenhouse, all of those herbs and roots. I never thought about it but I guess Professor Sprout was right; Professor Snape would have to be up on Herbology to be able to do his work.'_

Neville had to walk around the bed to hand him the black silk handkerchief, "What did you want to see me about?" he asked quietly. He held out his had for the large square of cloth, but the boy froze. _'He doesn't need me to mess with him,'_ he snarled to himself and snatched the fabric away from Neville's trembling, outstretched hand. _'What did I expect? He doesn't have enough of the blood in him to overcome it. I knew that. What am I a flagellant?'_

As he slowly unraveled the bandage he motioned to the chair that Dumbledore had vacated, "Sit- on second thought," Neville stopped half way down, "You don't get squeamish do you? She told me it's ugly," he indicated the right of his face with a flick of his wrist.

"Not as a rule, sir," Neville sat.

He couldn't stop it in time and a slight smile pulled at his lips. Causing the skin around his eye to stretch and the pain came back. Closing his good eye he took a moment to school his expression back to its usual neutral foreboding_._

Neville watch silently. "Sir," he swallowed then continued. "It was my fault. I did it on purpose." There wasn't anything to look at. The room was bare and the injured professor was directly in front of him. 

Watching Neville cast about for something to look at, he had a truly evil idea, "How do you think it looks?" he leaned forward and turned so that only the huge bruise and swollen eye could be seen.

He was very surprised to feel Neville draw closer rather than further away but he didn't move.

"What did she give you?" the boy asked with out realizing that he had spoken aloud.

"Uh, about three meters of gauze and orders not to get up." _'What did the Headmaster tell him?'_

"No, I mean what did she dope you up with? You're not yelling at me or taking house points or anything."

_'Oh.' _Tying the silk around his head so that the mar was covered he took a minute to think up the least out-of-character Snape-ish answer he could, then decided to answer for his own actions the way Neville had just done. "I saw you tipping your cauldron. That's why I looked away from Potter. This was my fault. I could blame you," he shrugged, "But what would that get me?"

Neville blinked and sat back. An answer jumped out at him, "What was in the syringe that Draco injected you with?"

"Get my clothes," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the closet.

Disappointed Neville began to take out and place Snape's clothes on the bed in a neat pile.

"Your mother, Ruth, her maiden name was Chamberlain." The statement was completely out of the blue, "Your grandmother is rather harsh. She lost her father and younger sister in the Second World War."

Neville had heard something about it before, many years ago when everyone had thought he was asleep in bed, and his grandmother had left the room for a few minutes. _'But how would professor Snape hear about my family's personal business?'_ He set down the black vest and resumed his seat to hear more.

"The Muggles joined the war after the Magi were attacked." His voce became a hypnotic drone, "The first strike was against a Magi village, it is what brought England into the war." He began to change into his/Snape's clothes, careful to stay on the bed, "Because of the Joint Ministries' official policy of non-involvement, Atlanta lost half of her family. You were named after your great uncle, Neville Chamberlain, a Squib who took to Muggle politics and became Prime Minister of England." 

The rough velvet of that voice was drawing Neville deeper and deeper into its spell, and he lost track of everything else.

"When her son married a Chamberlain Atlanta was heartbroken. She felt that Frank had betrayed her and she became bitter. When Ruth named you after her father's favorite uncle, she had a knife driven through her heart. She has had to re-learn how to forgive and love." He closed his eye and looked away. The spell was broken.

Dropping his eyes to his clenched fists Neville drew a breath to speak.

Madame Pomfrey stormed in, "Albus sent word, you're to get back to your classes as soon as you're dressed. " Realizing that he was nearly dressed, she clipped out the release to the alarm and left in a huff.

Neville had never seen Madame Pomfrey angry, ever.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" he asked, trying to stop the questions Neville was sure to ask next.

"No, the Headmaster gave us the day off." he looked back down at his hands again, "Some of the other kids were really upset."

He slid from the edge of the bed and pulled on his frock coat, "I think you would probably consider it an unrefined form of Heroin. You have Advanced Potions Theory tomorrow, you might want to work on that if you don't have anything else to do." Pulling on his robe he swept into the hall. The impression was of a great black bird soaring through the halls and down the stairs to the Dungeons

Chapter Thirty-four

Slapping the Tele-orb into its cradle Albus snapped, "Alastor Moody," he tried sitting but stood and began pacing. He darted back to his desk and took his seat, as Alastor's head appeared in the globe's depths. 

"What in the world is so important?" the retired Auror groused from under a fluffy white towel.

Leaning his elbows on his blotter Albus knew that he was going to have a very bad headache soon, "Things are progressing faster than we anticipated. I need to speak with you."

Moody stopped drying his unruly dark hair and put down his towel, "I'll be two minutes. You caught me in the shower." He signed off and rushed to get dressed.

The fire turned jade green for a moment then a damp Alastor Moody stepped into the room, "Which one was it?" he barked. 

"Ours," Albus did not bother to offer tea. (He didn't even get up.)

Alastor began pacing in front of his friend's desk, "What was the damage?"

"He fell." Alastor stopped pacing, incredulity on his face. Albus continued, "Yes I know it was on purpose. Though I have no idea what he thinks he is doing." 

"You moved Lupin down?"

"And Black when he arrived. They have not been in the dungeon more than a week, but as I told you he seems to be accepting them." Albus was hoping that Moody could make sense of it.

Alastor for his part was wondering what all the fuss was about, "So he looks pretty bad… He heals quick enough right, Snape can't be too upset about it."

Dumbledore let his head rest against the back of his chair and closed his eyes, "He doesn't know yet, and that is not the problem."

Moody took one of the plush seats on the other side of the desk and waited for the other shoe to drop.

Mouthing a mild pain reliever charm Albus sat up, "He broke his cheek bone, it and a minor cut in his lip healed before he even reached the hospital wing. Snape will be rather angry about the bruise, but we have dealt with that before. What I called you here for is what he said to me when I arrived in the hospital wing."

Raising one bristly brow Alastor inclined his head.

"His exact words were 'I don't care what he does now. I can't take the darkness any longer. He's turned. There's no softness in his heart anymore.' I asked him what he meant. He looked me right in the eye and said 'You must kill him.'"

"Shit." 

Albus nearly laughed, "Oh believe me I have already thought it through that far. It's getting past that that seems to be the problem."

Moody shook his head, "I thought the self destructive tendency had been eliminated."

"It was," Albus affirmed, "I think this is something else."

"Such as?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Severa wrote," Alastor offered, "She's pulling some kind of trick too."

Forgetting his headache Albus jerked upright, "Is she?"

"Nothing like," he waved a hand to indicate the entire day's events, "She's being much more subtle. Which reminds me of that fiasco at Mungo's. The records are still missing, but I have a lead."

"Yes," Albus lazily steepled his fingers and leaned into the chair back. He looked relaxed but Alastor could see the glint in his eyes.

Moody conjured himself a cup of tea, "They are still missing, and from what I hear Fudge is very hot under the collar about it. One of my people says that a Doctor Ignatius requested the records of a mister Snape Severus."

"A simple substitution charm to reverse the order of the name and no red flags are tripped when he asks for the file," Albus suggested and Alastor nodded. "Smooth, but do you have a lead on this Ignatius?"

Moody sighed, "No. He seems to fall off the face of the planet at that point. All I do know is that he isn't from the Ministry and he isn't a Death Eater." 

"And Severa?"

"She has managed to procure a Parramorph's egg."

"So," Albus dropped his hands to his chair's padded armrests, "They have **independently** managed to get a week of uncensored action. **The same week**?" 

Alastor nodded wearily, "Should we alter our time table?"

"No," Albus spoke firmly now, "They are doing this for a reason. I don't think we should interfere. Lets just leave the interviews for the new staff positions as scheduled for this Saturday."

Moody rose to take his leave, "And the Order will be meeting as scheduled, on Sunday." He vanished his teacup, "See you Friday." Floo powder again jaded the flames and Alastor Moody returned to his own study.


	18. Unexpected Proposition

If you need me to tell you that J. K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter… you have been living in a cave.

Chapter 18:

Advanced Potion Theory Fifth-year really started today and Snape had refused to come out of his room. Shouting that he wouldn't submit to going around like a one-eyed-jack just because **It** had made a clumsy misstep. So for the second day in a row the male had to cover for the real Snape.

The students filed in slowly, and placed their scrolls on the corner of his/Snape's desk. Spirits were low and no one talked or pushed to get to their seats.

"One comment about the scarf and your house won't even dream of seeing positive point numbers until long after you're dead." He announced, then began to look over their work and quietly took his own seat. _'**He** couldn't come up with that? No! **he** has to throw a tantrum instead.'_

His annoyance with Snape was forgotten as he flipped from one paper to another. He chuckled. The cold rattle of his mirthful contempt was unnerving. Time dragged on. He occasionally had to stop to shake his head and compose himself. After skimming the last of the reports he stood, came around to the front of his/their desk and began to sort the papers as he called out names.

Holding up the five papers whose owners' names he had called, the male motioned for them to stand. "Gather your things. You are dismissed." He dropped their scrolls into the waste paper basket to the right of his desk.

Jaws dropped, Hermione's one of the first. The three Ravenclaws and two Gryffindors, who were standing, dazedly picked up their bags and supplies and left closing the door behind them.

Hermione and Neville watched as the only other Gryffindors filed out with heads bowed. Slytherins now dominated the room with a large percentage of Ravenclaws a few Huffelpuffs and the two forlorn Gryffindors rounded out the class.

He started to recite another list of names and their papers were also held apart from the others, "You seven I think at least deserve some sort of explanation. You were wrong," he said, dropping their work into the trash as well. He waited for them to leave, and seemed almost to relish throwing them out.

There were fewer Ravenclaws and Slytherins, but amazingly none of the three Huffelpuffs had been eliminated. Walking among the desks he handed back the scrolls to the remaining students, keeping the longest and shortest for last.

"It should come as no surprise to anyone that Miss Granger found time to write a veritable encyclopedia on her research results." He sneered handing her work to her. There were a few uneasy snickers from the Slytherins. "Equally unsurprising was Mister Longbottom's single sheet's worth," he handed over the last essay and resumed his place at the head of the class. They didn't bother to laugh; Neville was blushing enough to satisfy them.

Again he leaned back against his desk and loosely crossed his arms, "Miss Granger. Would you please read to the class the end result of all your labors?"

Hermione's eyes went round as she tried to convince herself that she had heard wrong, "Sir?" she squeaked. He just raised a black brow and waited. Feeling sick and quite certain that she would vomit she read her concluding statement. "As witnessed by the above list of sources that I examined I have done a thorough investigation, and have been unable to successfully identify the potion in question." Ashen and blushing she sank heavily to her seat and hid her face.

"At this point I believe it would be most instructive, Mister Longbottom, if you would read your entire essay. Now." He could practically hear the walls falling from around their mind's preconceptions.

Taking several breaths and without looking up, Neville jerked to his feet and blurted, "I was unable to identify the potion." He sat and tried not to look as sick as he felt.

"That would be because," all eyes turned from the disgraced Gryffindors to the black clad figure of the Potion Master, "I have yet to publish it." _'Crash! And the walls came tumbling down.'_

Hermione's head came up slowly, "What?!"

He favored her with a lopsided smirk, "In fact, I am not sure that I will ever be able to publish it. It has however, provided you with a wonderful introduction to the world of potions." He stepped away from his desk, "I do not expect that any of you will become Potion Masters, which incidentally is a title applied to both male and female alike. I myself have taught three students in my sixteen years here who have achieved that rank. Most who do become Potion Masters would sort into either Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Tenacity," he inclined his head to indicate the Huffelpuffs. "And daring," he looked to the Gryffindors, "Are required. Drive though, is the most important ingredient. It is also something that Slytherins and Ravenclaws have in abundance. I can not explain to you what it is that drives me to do this, but I **can** teach you to at least see the music, hear the scents, and feel the colors that exist for every Potion Master."

Not sure how to interpret what had been said, no one made a sound. Most were reconsidering their estimation of his sanity.

Neville though, leaned forward excitedly, _'Where is he going with this?'_

"Your assignment is to take the three primary colors; red, yellow, and blue as well as the three secondary colors; orange, green, and purple and describe them as tactile sensations. I will expect you to turn in your papers when you have finished, regardless of the time or day. The deadline is next Wednesday at the start of class. You may begin now."

_'I can't believe they insisted on walking three abreast,' _the male stepped in and held the lab door for the other two. "Robe over there," he waved in the direction of a cluttered table to the right, "and get on the slab." He started to rummage through the contents of a cabinet, gathering supplies.

Remus and Sirius cautiously approached the door. The tropical steam that rushed out to meet them was a surprise to Black. "Whuh," he gasped.

The tables that, last time had been cluttered with a few simmering containers of multicolored fluids and tilting haphazard piles of paper were now nearly cleared. Every table and counter had been moved to make room on the floor for the huge cauldrons that were cooking up who knew what. The bright yellow and orange flames looked strange and very Muggle.

"Oh," Remus glanced back at him, and began to unfasten his robe. "Yah, it gets hot in here when he's brewing potions." He shrugged, "If he isn't working on anything it's cold."

Sirius looked around for a bit, then walked over to lean against the cabinet beside the one **It** was looking through. "So," there was an edge to his casual tone, "What am I supposed to call you then?"

"Call me?" He thought for a moment, "I don't exactly have a name." The male shrugged and returned to his task. "I guess you could just call me Snape. You always have."

"**Snape**?" Sirius couldn't believe it and made sure everyone knew.

"Does it really matter?" He stood and placed the needles, lines, bag, and other things that are needed to draw a pint of blood, on a tray beside the Slab.

"Uh," Sirius couldn't bring himself to call** It** Snape, "why do you call the table a slab?"

He looked up snapping on a glove, "Do I? Well I guess that would be because that's what I was taught to call it. Would you get the music?" On went the other glove.

This time Sirius asked if he could adjust the volume, before pushing the play button.

"No. I'm not comfortable working on it with it making so much noise." Alcohol was swabbed on Lupin's arm as he lay back on the slab/table. "Certain concessions are unavoidable when working with-" he waved a hand over the prone Lupin.

"Why. Do. You. Call. Him. An. it?" Sirius demanded with forced calm.

Lupin, already sweating, shot him a panicked look, "Would you stop pushing him while he's holding a needle!"

The counterfeit Snape sounded exaggeratedly wounded, "I've been doing this for two years now and you still don't trust me?"

"You almost killed me last time!" Lupin snapped back, "And I didn't even know you existed then."

"That was your fault, not mine" he reasoned, ignoring the controversy over his not being or being.

"How's that?!" Lupin shouted.

"That drug has a very low reaction rate. I was greatly inconvenienced because you chose not to inform me that you were allergic to it," he sounded serenely placid.

"It's not as though I knew I was allergic!"

"Ignorance is no excuse."

"What kind of logic is that?!" Remus' mind boggled at the sheer bizarreness of the conversation.

"I'm done, the bag should be full in about an hour. Lay still and-" he turned to Black, "If you had granted my simple request, I would not have had to get him so worked up to distract him enough to get the needle in." He started clearing away the wrappers and other trash, "I was wondering if-" he hesitated, "Nah, never mind." Before he could leave though he changed his mind and decided to ask anyway, "I have to get the results, I usually just meet Nick, he's a sort of go-between, at the Raven. I can't keep you under my protection from Toronto so… Would you like to come?" He looked from Remus to Sirius and back.

Remus and Sirius spoke at the same time. "You were able to get the blood sent off then?" "What is The Raven?"

"It's a- Well it's a sort of nightclub. They cater mostly to Vamps, but they don't close the door to Thumpers." The answer was not very enlightening. "And no, **I** was not able to send the samples. Fenny saw to it."

Sirius held up a hand, "You had a House Elf take care of our blood work, and now you're asking us to come with you to a Vampire nightclub in Toronto?"

"Aye."

Remus called from the slab, "When are you going?"

"Friday after diner."

"We're coming then," Remus silenced Sirius' objection with a glare.

"I'll be back in an hour. Don't get up and keep the bag moving so it doesn't coagulate." He slipped out leaving Remus and Sirius to their own devices.

"What did you mean 'We're coming then?' Do you know what you just volunteered us for?" Sirius flung his arms up and let them fall back down.

"Albus said we were here to help him," slowly tipping the bag from side to side he tried not to think about the tube in his arm. "For some reason his being 'bonded' with Snape is bad, and we need to spend time with him to change it."

"Yah I was there when he said all that," Sirius absently ran one finger along the grove cut into one side of the slab, "This doesn't add up. Why has he been having that 'thing' work on you? I mean it's a coroner or something."

"A coroner? Where did you get that?"

Sirius boosted himself onto the edge of the steel table, "A 'slab' is what they call the autopsy platform. His insistence on calling you an 'it' but only while he's working on you. You make too much noise. It just makes sense."

"You've watched too many episodes of Quincy," Remus half-joked.

"Yah, maybe." He chuckled, "So what's with the pirate look?"

"Oh you missed a very interesting day," Remus groaned.


	19. A Matched Set

**Hope was the first person to catch my references to Forever Knight. Ten points to Slytherin!**

Chapter Nineteen:

There was a soft tap on his door, he put down the papers that he had been reading through, "Enter," he called.

The dark mahogany door was edged open and the slim figure of his Potion Master slipped into the cold room.

"Sir, you wanted to speak with me." Severa turned the statement into a question.

With a slight nod he indicated that she should sit opposite him in front of the fire. "For some days now it has been rumored that you would be leaving us."

He offered tea (with vodka.) She took the proffered cup, and waited for him to continue. In her opinion Albus Dumbledore was not the only Headmaster to be underestimated on a regular basis. The man before her had been Headmaster of Durmstrang for many decades and was still an unknown variable to most. But then, Grigori Rasputin had always been a hard man to pin down, and had proved harder to kill.

He could feel her trying to read him, and took a few sips of tea to give her time. Grigori had been surprised to say the least when he had first felt that gentle probing touch against his mind. No one had ever dared to challenge him on his own territory. _'No one except Severa.'_ She was not psychic as he first thought. She was very gifted, frighteningly so, and that is what had drawn him to her. The fact that she was not the least bit interested in a physical relationship only made her more intriguing to him.

He initiated eye contact, "Sleep," he commanded softly, hypnotically. Moody's eyelids drooped. Aided in part by the alcohol, he lulled her into unconsciousness. As he was refreshing his tea he felt the other fully enter the room. Balancing his cup on the armrest of his chair he smiled sadly, "We have been friends for many years, I will miss you." He stared into glowing blue eyes.

From a low table beside his chair he lifted into view a goblet of wine. He held it out to her, noticing not for the first time that except for the eyes, she really was a double for his sleeping Potion Master. Holding the glass by the stem Grigori saw her hesitate to take it, with a half smirk he let it slip through his fingers until he held only the rim.

"I will miss you as well," she took the glass and drank.

"Why must you both leave?" he sighed.

A tiny, bitter, chuckle found its way past her control, "I go where **she** goes, you understand that better than even I." She spoke into her goblet and did not even pretend to attempt to meet his gaze.

"One last game of chess?" he asked knowing she would say yes.

She followed him with her eyes as he moved across the room to get the board and pieces, "I do not leave until Saturday."

He hid a smile, "Then there will be time tomorrow night for another last game."

Rasputin marveled at the silence with which the creature moved over the stone tiles of his floor. Not even her cloak swished, '_Alastor, my old friend. I know that a Sidhe will bond to an adopted child every bit as strongly as he will to one of their own loins, and I know the same is true of Humans, but… how **could** you?'_

"Being half Sidhe you should be able to keep your thoughts further from the surface than that," she murmured, taking the other seat at the chess table.

"Sadly I am also half human. " He gave her his best innocent look and held out his fists, one pawn of either color for her to choose. "What did you see?"

"I saw that you regret. I do not know what, but you feel it bitterly. Being half human means you are allowed to falter sometimes. It also means that you will inevitably die." she answered him in an order that pleased her. An annoying idiosyncrasy that he had taken a long time to get used to. She placed her own value on things and related to them as such.

Flaming blue eyes fixed on the Headmaster's right fist and she gave a slight nod. He rotated his wrists and revealed that she had chosen black (her favorite.) They set up their pieces and he made the opening move.

"Check," she slid the bishop down its line, "And…" She stopped two spaces over from his trapped king, "Mate." She flicked the defeated king off the playing field with her piece.

It was something he had done to gloat after beating her the first time they had played. Now she played to return the dig.

He summoned the fallen piece back to him and glanced at the clock, "It is nearly midnight." Regret weighted his words.

"I should go now," she put down the bishop. "She will be furious if she wakes and finds…"

The eerie glow faded and as she retreated he moved to the fire. "I think maybe you should sleep in your own quarters Moody," he told the waking Professor.

She blinked for a moment then rose, "I apologize sir, I must have been more tired than I thought. Good night sir." She departed.

Grigori Yefimovitch Rasputin was left alone to ponder the nature of human existence and how a man could send his own daughter to a place like Durmstrang, to keep her safe.

"Severus!" Albus cheerfully allowed the students to hurry past him and watched as they rushed up the stairs in a mad dash for freedom.

"Yes, sir?"

"Ah, glad I caught you in time. You're not even dressed yet." The smile was a little too bright.

"Dressed? But I-"

Albus began shooing him down the hall toward Snape's rooms, "I think we have time before class starts."

"But- er- I- Dinner!" He tried to object but the hands waving at him were rather distracting, so he moved on down the hall.

"Oh, come now class will be over with plenty of time for dinner," the old man reassured. "Not that you ever eat all that much."

His good eye went wide as they entered Snape's private quarters, "Class?!"

"I have announced it three times already since the start of fall term, tonight is the first night that one of our two new classes will be starting. Now get out of that and into your Skinlette." Dumbledore was trying his best to push him along, and keep him off balance. "Not that they are new precisely, we are more or less reinstating them after having dropped them for far too long."

Struggling to get out of his clothes and follow what Albus was saying, while continuing to protest he looked up from pulling at his boot, "You haven't brought back that hygiene class have you? I don't think I can stand them going about making informed comments on my hair again. Not after what I went through last time."

Albus chuckled at the memory, "Come, come it wasn't so bad as all that."

"Yah," he muttered pulling off the other boot, "You try having your oil glands tampered with by a Third-year, and we'll talk."

"At least your hair was clean for a week."

"Stupid bloody charms."

"Sorry I didn't catch that last bit," Albus called from the other side of the room where he was pointedly studying a set of wall chains. "What does he want with a thing like this?" he asked over his shoulder.

"It was supposed to be used as an acne-reducer-charm," he reminded the Headmaster. "You want me to get into my Skinlette? Do you want me to get the rest of it too?" The blue eyed Snape asked as he entered the real Snape's bedchamber.

"Yes, it would be most helpful if you would."

Several minutes later the imposter reemerged, "Well?" he slowly pivoted for a thorough inspection. "Do I get to know what this is all about, now?"

"It still fits," Albus commented dryly. _'Dear god it still fits! Maybe Alastor was wrong about bringing him out like this. He needs the chance to stretch himself but, at what cost?'_

"Class?"

"Yes," snapping back to the here and now Albus led the way out of the dungeons. "The Dueling Club received such wonderful reviews-" there was a loud snort of disagreement and Albus continued, "That I have decided to bring it back. With more of a mind to defending ones self in the case of sudden attack." Sudden** Death Eater** attack was the unspoken though understood meaning behind his words.

He grabbed the Headmaster's robe and forced him to stop, "Lockheart isn't back is he?" The distress in his voice would have been funny had his eye not flared with the remembrance of Snape's hatred for the man.

"No, Remus will be heading the class and you and… another, will be assisting him." They stopped at the double-doors to the room that had been allocated for the new Dueling Class, "Now, I think the students have all arrived. I'll just go in and find a seat."

--'---,---------------

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Aidan (the newest member of their little club) eagerly signed up for the new Magical Defense class. **After** the Headmaster had explained to everyone that it was a revision of the failed Dueling club, and would be headed by Professor Lupin.

They were four of the first students to arrive and chose their seats with care, as far from Draco and his entourage as possible.

"Man I can't wait to see old Mad-eye kick Snape's butt," Ron excitedly whispered to Harry and Aidan being careful to not be overheard by Hermione.

"I heard that Ron," she called from the other side of Harry. "I would be very surprised if Professor Snape would agree to this if he even thought there were the slightest chance of his being beaten."

Aidan nodded, "Yah, he's like, too scary to have someone attack him and then loose to them."

"Try not to let them get you down Ron," Harry patted his shoulder with a grin, "If anyone **can **take Snape I would put my galleons on Professor Moody, hands down."

The room was set up much as it had been for the Dueling Club. Rows of chairs positioned around a square 'Dueling Mat' which had been warded. The wards were designed to prevent the charms and hexes that would be used from leaving the designated dueling area.

Once everyone had taken a seat Remus stepped to the center of the dueling mat, "Some of you may have participated in the Dueling Club that was offered several years ago. The focus of that class was the observation and continuation of a time honoured piece of our cultural heritage." He looked at several of the students, the Slytherins in particular, to make sure that they were listening. "The purpose of this class is to teach you all some basic self defense. With your wand, and with out." '_That got their attention,'_ he thought with satisfaction, _'Well at least I don't have to worry about them falling asleep now.'_

"Unframed or wandless magic is the most basic and most powerful form of magic." Remus began the lesson, "As young children you each displayed some sort of magical behavior. You did not have access to a wand yet things happened, a cookie flew out of the jar and into your fist. Or the shirt you hated as blue turned red. These are examples of Unframed magic."

"I'm here to learn to defend myself from sudden attack by deserts and bad taste in fashion?" Draco mocked, just loud enough to be heard.

"You may be surprised, Mister Malfoy." Remus returned, "Magic that requires the use of a wand is called Framed Magic. It has limitations and rules that must be learned. Tonight Professors Moody and Snape are going to demonstrate the effectiveness of Unframed magic when defending ones self against sudden attack."

As he introduced Alastor Moody, retired Auror, Remus noticed the Headmaster slipping in and taking a seat by the door. He raised an inquiring brow and Albus gave him a slight nod in return.

"Professor Alastor Moody is a former Auror and was a great hero during the first war with He-who-must-not-be-named," Remus wished he could bite his tongue off for the slip but rushed on in hopes of covering it up instead. "He has a vast knowledge of spells used in the Dark Arts and we are very fortunate that he has volunteered to assist us." He bowed his head to the Wizard on his right.

The Headmaster had not bade him enter so he listened at the door and waited for some kind of cue that he should make his appearance. Hearing that Alastor Moody was **the other** that Dumbledore had been referring to, was not doing good things to his stomach.

"Please note that Professor Moody is wearing traditional Wizard's Combat Armour." Remus began pointing out the various protective features of the unusual costume, "I would like especially to draw your attention to the Adamantite Armour on his back, forearms, and shins," he pointed to the glossy tan-ish olive coloured plates as he spoke. "Adamantite of course has the property of deflecting spells, it is however enormously expensive and very few full suits of armour were made from it."

To Harry the close fitting Dueling Robe that Moody wore under his armour looked even more like woman's dress than the regular robes that every Wizard wore. He couldn't stop grinning and when Ron quietly asked what was so funny he almost lost it. He looked to Hermione for help but she was covering her mouth and could only shake her head.

"Professor Moody will be demonstrating various defensive maneuvers that may be employed with the aid of a wand in the cause of self-defense. Demonstrating the uses of unframed magic will be Professor Sna-"

The door was flung open and in marched the Potion Master. He stepped onto the dueling pad and took his place at Remus' left. There was a flicker of hesitation, then he unfastened his robe in one swift motion and flung it onto an empty chair in the front.

One eye covered and one eye closed he waited for the panic to pass.


	20. To Buckle

**Sunna's side7 gallery **(http: //www .side7. com /cgi-bin /S7SDB /Archive .pl?ANO =7113 ) **has the best Snape pics I've seen. **Plus A few pics from my fic! So just take out the spaces and check it out now!! Well fine then, after you read the chapter. (The pic, run_hide Is censored. I didn't see until I finished this chapter but it looks like I ripped the flashback at the beginning, right from the pic. I recommend checking it out too, even though it has nothing to do with me. The rating is for blood and I was not bothered by it so…) 

**Buckle is a very interesting word. It means: to fasten together **_BUT it can also mean**:** _**to fall apart**

Chapter Thirty-nine:

Memories flickered past. 

///Night, cold air and hot sweat.///

_'Things are different this time,'_ he tried to tell himself.

///Fighting for the other's life and his own existence.///

_'Moody isn't after me and I'm not here to defend **him**. I'm here to help Lupin teach the class.'_

///Running down alleys, dodging Aurors, hell bent on revenge for their fallen comrades, not aware that he was on their side.///

But with each breath the skinlette stretched tight against his chest and he was acutely aware of the Auror, _'Retired Auror,'_ he corrected, though it made no difference.

Lupin had not been expecting this, _'When Albus said that he had a Garom uniform I thought he meant a few pieces. Not a complete suit!'_ He cleared his throat and tried to hide his excitement, "Ah, please note that, as per tradition, the pants and shirt are Elven-grey in color and resemble Muggle fashion. This is to allow for the acrobatic style of combat that Garoms most commonly employed. They of course fought without wands and so developed their own rules of engagement. The tears in the fabric of the shirt and pants are actually required by law. It was made a global standard in Fourteen-twenty-five that any Garom in possession of a Skinlette must clearly display it at all times."

Lupin then pointed out the shimmering fabric of the Skinlette, explaining that it was impervious to physical attack. "And as you can see, because of the holes in the outer garments, the Skinlette covers only from the elbows to the knees. It is a single piece and has no closures or fasteners. Once it is on, only the wearer can remove it. It is unknown if this atribute continued after death. No Garom was ever captured and held long enough to tell. They always returned for their own." 

The false Snape tried not to squirm while being put on display. Over everything else, he wore a leather harness that wound tightly around his legs, chest, arms, and ended with a collar around his neck, and the many buckles and studs on the harness caught the light and flashed when he moved. 

Rather uncomfortably Remus glossed over the harness saying only that it was a sign that the original owner had been "- an active combat specialist." and "-most likely had died in battle." A pair of fingerless gloves and soft-soled boots completed the peculiar ensemble.

Remus finished his monologue with a quick barb at the not-quite-Snape's expense, "The one eyed look was not especially popular, as it impaired depth perception and peripheral vision." Alastor, Albus and Remus were the only ones to laugh, openly, there were several (Harry and Ron being only two) who snickered softly, behind their hands.

"Gentlemen?" Lupin said stepping off of the mat, "Please take your places." He looked to the **other** Snape taking a second to verify that his eyes were blue, "If you would demonstrate defensive moves," he turned to face Alastor, "And I think a few mild hexes are all we need to start with today."

Lupin kept up a running commentary as the combatants faced each other and took up fighting stances. 

"Professor Moody has chosen to begin with the traditional Aurors 'ready' stance. Note how his narrower robe does not impede his range or freedom of motion. This is due to a rather innovative use of Wizard's Space charms."

Alastor stood, left foot forward with his weight carefully balanced so that he could dodge right or left swiftly.

"He is keeping his non-wand arm higher than would be proper for dueling, so that the armor plating can be used to block if needed. Professor Snape on the other hand is in the traditional Garom pose."

To Harry and Hermione it looked as though Snape was ready to engage in some form of Muggle martial arts combat rather than a Wizard's duel. They exchanged surprised looks when Remus continued.

"The Garom style of fighting is loosely based on a method developed in Japan and practiced by an elite group of fighting Wizards known as Ninja."

Moody obliged by firing off a rapid series of binding charms and weakening hexes, most of which were taught in the Fourth and Fifth years. The spells glanced off of what seemed to be an invisible shield in front of the grey clad professor. Flares of blue and white washed over him without hitting their mark.

Lupin was explaining the exact effect of each charm and giving examples of when a good time to use such a charm would come up. There was nothing that could really be said about the defender's actions, he was just standing there bringing his arms up when Moody loosed a spell.

Then Alastor began to slowly circle to the left and as 'Snape' moved to match him Remus faltered in his commentary.

"Uh, guys?" The hexes were rapidly becoming curses and the sparring Wizards were beginning to egg each other on.

"Been out of practice too long Moody?"

"Wouldn't want to hurt Albus' precious Potion Master, they're hard to come by."

Lupin raised his voice a bit, "Hey, come on they don't learn that one till Sixth year Moody. This is supposed to be an illustration that they can copy."

He was sticking to defensive action as he had been instructed but there was a warmth, spreading out from his chest and as Alastor threw more at him it only spread further. "That's all right. I'm sure the kiddies would be happy to listen to tales of what you used to be able to do," he sneered. When Moody sent out a particularly nasty curse (designed to cause painful muscle spasms) rather than blocking it, he dropped and rolled forward and right, jumping to his feet, considerably closing the gap. 

Moody watched as his curse sailed past where the 'look-alike' had been and saw it get stopped by the protective barrier around the mat. Then he had to adjust his strategy, as there was no longer as much room to maneuver. "Didn't like the looks of that one?" Alastor grinned, madly. "Well I have a few that you might like better." He advanced behind a string of more powerful and more dangerous curses.

Deflecting the attacks caused showers of sparks that blinded him to the other Wizard's movements. He could vaguely feel Moody getting closer but the shielding was interfering with his spatial awareness. 

Albus watched as the wandless defense demonstration degraded into a veiled Retired Auror/Former Death Eater pissing contest. _'Alastor I hope you're not planning what I think you're planning,'_ his hand sought the handle of his wand. _'We were not able to undo the imbedded training, he'll take you before I can stop him.'_

When Moody made it to within an arm's reach of the younger Professor he surprised everyone by suddenly swinging a haymaker that would have knocked anyone else into unconsciousness (and the Critical Care wing of the nearest medical center.)

Without thinking, the false Snape dropped into a tight, backward handspring and came up in a low crouch, one leg extended. He quickly spun as though to trip Moody, who was already pulling back, but as he came around he launched himself into the air. Thrusting his hands forward, wrists together fingers splayed, creating a shock wave that caught Alastor in the chest, badly winding him. He landed smoothly and cocked his head to the side, unevenly eyeing the fallen man through his greasy black hair. 

Sensing that the display was at an end Lupin stepped back onto the mat. "I would like to draw your attention to the fact that though the shielding that Professor Snape used was able to block **several advanced curses**," he looked sternly at Moody as the older Wizard got to his feet. "It was not an effective defense against **the physical attack**. The **purely defensive shield** did however prove to be an effective weapon when given force." He turned to glare at the fraud at the other end of the mat.

Chapter Forty:

The students were paired off and for the next half-hour took turns alternately using mild stunning charms and attempting to block them. Harry and Ron spent equal time on the floor, they had been paired with Ravenclaws, but Draco's partner didn't stand a chance. He loudly proclaimed this to anyone listening and earned himself a speech from Professor Lupin on the importance of not being over-confident. 

"…And as you saw when Professor Moody thought that he had a sure victory, your Head of House pulled that little trick out of his hat and caught Moody off guard. Finite Incatatum," Lupin released Neville from the stunner Draco had put on him, and moved on to correct a Huffelpuff on his flick.

As soon as the Professor was busy Draco stunned Neville again. 

Dumbledore watched from his seat as Alastor and Remus moved about the room advising and correcting various students. He had been troubled when it looked as though Moody had bitten off more than he could chew, but when the fight had ended so abruptly… "Severus," he called softly, "You weren't trying to slip out, were you?" 

Letting his hand fall from the doorknob he resigned himself to whatever Albus had in store for him next. "No, I always skulk about exiting and entering rooms when no one is looking." He met the Headmaster's eye, "I find it helps keep the troublemakers on their toes."

With a slight smile Dumbledore asked if he meant troublemakers or Gryffindors? Before he could reply Albus continued, "Speaking of Gryffindors, Young Mister Longbottom seems to be spending an inordinate amount of time on his back." He steered the reluctant Potions Master back toward the Dueling mat with a gentle smile and a hand hovering over his shoulder. "Perhaps you could offer some advice?" 

Without really consenting, he stalked over to where Neville lay, spread-eagled on his back. "Mister Longbottom, is there anything that you do well?"

Neville could only stare straight up, and be very thankful that there were so many witnesses around.

"Mister Malfoy, release him." He stepped back to give Neville room to stand. He again addressed Draco, "I am sure that you know a more effective spell than Petrificus?" Draco grinned slyly and nodded, "Then take your position and lets try again."

Neville now had the full attention of his Potions Master plus Draco Malfoy and everyone else in the room was quickly becoming aware of something going down.

The fake had been carrying his robe draped over one arm; he pulled it on but did not fasten it. As he moved, it fluttered and flared more like black sea billows than a common Potions Robe. With light steps he circled the dueling partners, "Watch your opponent Malfoy," he snapped catching the Slytherin following him with his eyes. "Longbottom you are failing because you are a failure. That is the simplest way of putting it."

"What is he-" Remus started forward to break into the tableau, but the Headmaster stopped him with a raised hand.

"This is not the time for a Gryffindor charge, Remus," Dumbledore sagely cautioned.

"Mister Longbottom, what is the exact spell that Mister Malfoy is planning to inflict upon you?" his sideways look was rather unsettling and Neville had to look away before answering.

"I don't know, sir" 

While Neville was looking away he stepped around behind the tense boy and spoke softly into his ear. "Then it shouldn't matter, should it?"

Neville could not move, Snape leaning over his shoulder, and whispering in his ear, was not something that could possibly bode well for his future. _'Draco is gonna hex me bad and Snape is almost touching me! Wait- what did he say? It shouldn't matter!?'_ "I—don't understand, sir."

"This is your real problem. If you can get this…" He looked up and caught Draco's eye, "Mister Longbottom, hold up your hand." He placed his hand beside Neville's and extended his own arm, Neville dazedly following suit. "Good. Now close your eyes." He waited for a sign from Draco that his instruction had been followed. "Spread your feet so that one is leading and rest your weight slightly more on it."

Neville could feel a few buckles and straps pressing into his back as Snape pushed him forward, and the hushed noises of the people watching echoed in his ears, but slowly everything began to fade. He could almost feel Draco standing in front of him. He felt the hex building up, felt the release, and when the spell finally came, the impact pushed him back. His weight shifted but he was able to keep on his feet. Opening his eyes he was just in time to catch Snape slipping out the door.

~

There was just time enough to get back to their Common Rooms drop off their school bags and get back to the Great Hall for the evening meal. Harry Ron and Aidan were waiting for Hermione; she had dropped her bag (when a Slytherin girl pushed past her) and was scrambling to collect her things.

"You guys just go on ahead I'll just be a sec," she called to them, gathering up the last of her papers.

"Hermione?" someone quietly called her from behind.

Turning she noticed that Neville was standing apart from the mass-exodus, "Yah Neville?"

"I know Harry and Ron are probably waiting for you outside, but I have a question and I think you could help me." He looked at his shoes and gave such an overall impression of pitiful helplessness that she couldn't tell him no.

"What is it?" she got serious and took a seat so that she could give him her undivided attention.

He waited for a small group of girls to pass, "Hermione, do you know anything about a drug called Heroin?"

She did a mental double take, "Heroin? Like the narcotic?"

He nodded, "I have been trying to research it but all that I can find are potions that are illegal to trade on the Muggle market because they resemble the drug Heroin. And since you're parents are Muggles… I thought you might have heard of it."

"Well, at the Muggle school I attended before I got my Hogwarts notice we had a special program where we learned about the difference between good drugs, that a doctor gives, and the bad drugs that people take because they want to get high. Why do you want to know about Heroin?" she scrunched her nose trying to anticipate his answer.

"I uh, sort of, know someone who uses it." 

She gasped, "Who?" he just shook his head and said he couldn't say. "Neville you need to get your friend help. Heroin is really dangerous. If he keeps on taking it he'll get real sick and- And he'll end up getting skeletally thin and depressed and sick and- looking as bad as Professor Snape before he dies." Neville's head jerked up at that, "Yah it gets that bad," she looked worried as she headed for the door. "Neville if this friend of yours doesn't get help, he'll die."

They were the last ones to leave the room, "I'll talk to him Hermione and, thanks." 

~

Hermione caught up with Neville again after dinner, "Aren't you going to come to the tower?" she asked as he headed away from the shortest path to Gryffindor Tower. '_Or he could be going to talk to that friend of his. I so hope he doesn't think I'm trying to be nosy about that,'_ she blushed slightly.

"Nah," he called back, "I've got some things to look up in the library." With a glance back, and a forced grin, he added, "I have a pass, and I am **not** turning in another blank page next Wednesday."

With Miss Pince's help, Neville found the book he was after. It was huge and dusty and old and it was also the only book that contained any real information about a subject that was usually not spoken of. 

The caption at the head of the page said that the definition of a term in bold print could be had by tapping the word in question with the tip of a wand.

~~~During the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries no Wizard of consequence would be without a **Garom** (see color plate 29) by his side. 

Garoms were victims of the only time in Wizard history that we, as a race, kept slaves. They were used for everything from personal bodyguards to assassins. What we now think of as the traditional **Garom Harness** (a sketching of a set of straps and buckles similar to the ones Snap had worn, appeared for a brief moment) was worn only during this brief time, and signified that the wearer was trained to kill at its own discretion.

Indiscriminate, or **forced breeding** (breeding combinations of creatures, Beings or Beasts that were not of the free will of the creatures being combined) to enhance traits that were considered fashionable, eventually led to a critical breakdown in their gene pool. As their gene pool deteriorated they became unstable. In the year Fifteen-forty-one a massive international effort was made to euthanize the remaining Garom population.

It was not a wholly successful venture and we should all be glad of that. A link was found in the year Fifteen-sixty-five, between Garoms and the perpetuation of magic from one generation of Wizards to the next. The magic that we all possess is actually a watered down version of the energy that they produce. 

No pure Garoms have occurred since the time of **The Great Devastation**, (The period between fifteen-forty-two to fifteen-seventy; so called because the rate of Squib births to Wizard parents was drastically higher than that of **Carriers** who inherited the Magic from their parents. The disparity was to such an extent that the Wizarding race was threatened.)

Some families took drastic measures to protect their Garom tainted blood by carefully arranging their children's marriages. Those families have over time become known as **purebloods **(They attempted to, through selective marriages, to pass on the trace Garom blood that they carried. Because of their efforts enough of the Garom blood has survived through the years that the Wizarding race still has inborn Manna as its primary trait.). Some still practice control over their children's choice of spouse so as to keep their family blood lines strong.~~~

_'We almost destroyed ourselves?'_ Neville closed the book and carefully returned it to its place on the shelf. He glanced at the clock, _'Can't put it off forever, and there is a reason I was sorted into Gryffindor. I just need to talk to Professor Snape about his drug problem.'_ It didn't sound like a very good way to start the weekend.


	21. A Shot Of Orange

I hope you are not under the impression that I am making any money off of this. 'Cause I ain't an' I would if I owned it but I don', so I'm broke. 

****

RivanKnight you are wonderful (in the background are heard the pleas of flamers being tortured) **The use of a good thick pillow and a strong whack with it up-side the head is music to my ears. TEN POINTS TO SLYTHERIN! For aggressively defending your house's honour.**

Sunna was hyper. The pic is relevant to sub-chapter 42 http: //www .side7. com /cgi-bin /S7SDB /DisplayImg.pl? INO =259386

Chapter Forty-one:

Sirius didn't have much to do all day. The rest of the school was off limits, for obvious reasons, and he couldn't even leave his rooms while Snape had classes. Someone, for some reason, might step into the hall and catch him. Remus had gotten him several books and he was spending most of his time just reading and sleeping. It was proving harder on his nerves to stay in hiding than it had to stay on the run.

He heard the dinner gong sound and crept out his door into the hall that connected his and Remus' rooms to the rest of the dungeon. The halls of the dungeon were at best poorly lit, it hadn't taken long for him to learn his way to Lupin's door with out risking a Lumos. This time instead of heading for his friend's sitting room though, he softly padded his way toward Snape's classroom. 

There was a slight sound of a shoe scraping on the stones, Black drew back into the shadows and waited to see who was missing dinner to visit the dungeons. Albus was the last person that he expected to see, and decided to follow him. _'Everything I've been reading about Plasti-juice says that Snape will have to get his next dose soon. If the six hour intervals are arranged the way I think they are. So what is Albus doing? Checking up on him?'_

Albus knocked on the closed classroom door and got only a muffled, Go away. "Severus?" A long empty pause. "Severus what happened?"

The door opened and the blue eyed Snape leaned against the frame. His robe fell open to reveal the Garom uniform he still wore. "Nothing happened. I lost control for a second. I didn't kill anyone and he doesn't know. So nothing happened." A single eye defied both of the Headmaster's.

"Severus," he sighed, there was nothing more that could be said, so he changed the subject, "He needs to eat."

"That isn't my concern. Basic life functions are up to him. If that's all." He shut the door and Albus slowly walked back up the stairs.

__

'I was right about it?!' Sirius waited to hear the upstairs door shut then he crossed the hall and tested the Potions room door. It was unlocked so he cautiously opened it enough to squeeze past closing it as quietly as possible. It was in Snape's office and had left the door open. _'No this is too farfetched, I can't be right. I'm just going stir crazy.'_ He tiptoed to the open door and stopped just short of the pool of light on the floor.

It was sitting at Snape's desk with a band of cloth tied tightly around Its left bicep, one end still in Its teeth. Sirius watched as It pulled out a drawer on the other side of the desk and brought out something that he couldn't see from the doorway. The clock struck the hour and It fished in a pocket bringing out a small bottle. It took a sip and replaced the phial in Its pocket. 

"Just a few hours," It spoke seemingly to Its self. "All I need is a few hours. " As It spoke It shifted on the chair so that Its left arm was laying on the desktop. "He asked this of me and I have to."

This provided Sirius with a clear view of what was going on. A small black case was what had been taken from the drawer. _'Harry mentioned a black case.' _It deftly withdrew a modern syringe and filled it with a clear liquid from a bottle that had also been in the case. The fine needle easily slid into one of the swollen blue veins in Its left forearm, just down from the wrist. There was not even a flicker as the plunger was pushed and the drug was released. 

-**Bang-Bang-Bang**-

The three solid knocks at the door made them both jump. Jerking the needle from his arm he spun to face the door and found Sirius Black staring at him. "Well? Get out of sight," he jerked a thumb at the wardrobe on the other side of the office, untied the rag/tourniquet, and moved to answer the door.

Serius stared for a moment, shocked, but as It pushed past him to get to the door he snapped out of it and ran to hide in the large cupboard amid the spare potion robes and safety smocks.

Because of the holes in his shirt he had only needed to push back the sleeve of his robe. Tugging the sleeve down and throwing the needle to the Expunge in the fireplace he opened the door and tried to act annoyed, rather than scared spitless. "Lupin," he was more than a little relieved that it wasn't the Headmaster. Moving aside, to allow entrance, he still managed to put a little bite behind his words, "It's the Werewolf, you can come out now."

The three faced each other a bit awkwardly. Sirius was slightly embarrassed that Lupin found him out of the safe zone of their corridor, and hiding in Snape's wardrobe. Remus really had no reason to be there at all except his curiosity over the uniform that It still wore and the impossibly powerful display of unframed magic that he had witnessed earlier. And 'Snape' was jittery because of the hit he had just taken.

He watched them watch each other and him, "I did say I would be leaving **after** dinner," he broke the standoff.

"Yah," Sirius grasped at the exit line, "Remus lets go, we can eat in your quarters." He grabbed Lupin's arm and tried to steer him toward the door.

"Just a minute," Lupin jerked his arm back, "I want to know where you got those clothes."

He winked, "I don't understand."

"I mean it all matches, I've never even heard of anyone having a complete matching set. Where did you find it?"

Sirius was waiting by the door and trying to act as impatient as possible.

"I still don't understand, what are you talking about?" he shifted slightly and the silvery buckles twinkled.

"Remus, something is getting lost in the translation, let's go." Sirius called, making a show of stepping out the door.

Frustrated, Remus grabbed the edge of Snape's robe and pulled it back, the Garom harness fairly sparkled in the torchlight, "I want to know where you got that," he jabbed with a finger at a strap that crossed Its chest.

With a snarl he slapped Lupin's hand away, in that brief instant of physical contact a levee was broken. Warmth, the same warmth as before, was tingling his fingertips. "I understand," it was a choked whisper. "I understand, but it- it has no form no substance." Dazedly he stepped away from Lupin. "I have always had this. It was mine, from the time before. That is all that I know, I feel more, but the rest doesn't have words." He headed for the Headmaster's office; something's just couldn't be avoided. 

~ 

After dinner and his trip to the Library, Neville finally screwed up the courage to visit Snape in the dungeon. No one was there.

~

Remus shook his head again, "No. I'm telling you, it's impossible. You're crazy."

Sirius hit the table with his palm, "And I'm telling you, I'm right It is a Garom."

"Are you seriously suggesting that Albus Dumbledore has managed to hide a live Garom in the dungeons of England's premier school for Magic, for the past five-hundred years?!" 

They had finished eating well before the food was gone. Once Sirius had mentioned his theory, their appetites were forgotten. Remus' knowledge of the Dark Arts was getting in the way of his accepting the ludicrous proposition. Sirius wasn't helping; he saw it as a matter of trusting their friendship.

The door chime sounded and Sirius reflexively ducked into the loo while Remus answered the door. 

Remus opened the door to a cringing one-eyed Snape, or the counterfeit, it was impossible to tell until he/it unsquinted.

"Why can't you put your ears to better use? A bleeding Werewolf and he can't even hear a body pounding at the door. Are you two ready or what? It's not like I've got all night." He tilted his head to look Remus in the eye.

__

'Blue eyes, well one at least.' Lupin stepped back and held the door, "Sirius was going to transfigure some robes into Muggle clothes, come on in he'll just be a minute."

Sirius had one of his rare bouts of good timing and called from another room that he was done with the alterations and would Remus get his tail into the new clothes so they could go?

Chapter Forty-two:

Leaning into the wall across from the hidden door he pealed an orange while he waited. He had just gotten the last of the skin off, when they joined him in the hall. He ate one section while looking them over.

Sirius had on a nice fitting pair of black slacks a caramel colored turtleneck and a black blazer. He had also managed to make himself a pair of fashionable mirrored sunglasses.

Lupin was wearing boot-cut blue jeans and a quietly plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves pushed up and the neck open to show the white long-sleeve T-shirt underneath. His sandy colored hair was tied back into a ponytail. He looked rather uncomfortable, but was trying to hide it.

He tossed them each an orange that he pulled from a robe pocket, "Here, you'll want to start those now." He headed down the hall before they could comment. 

Remus quickly ate his piece of fruit, but Sirius was being stubborn. They had gone further than was advisable into the depths of the dungeons and the familiar atmosphere of darkness and potential for danger began to give way to something a great deal more Gothic.

"Black I suggest that you eat the orange. The Morlocks barely honour the treaty as it is. If you don't eat the orange I can only protect your life. If all they want to do is bed you…" he near physically raked his eye over Sirius' form, "I can't lift a finger to stop them." He turned to stare at a patch of slightly slimy wall. The bricks that were under his scrutiny began to shift, slowly at first, but more quickly as he continued to focus. An arched entrance (not unlike the one in The Leaky Cauldron) appeared before them.

"Morlocks?" Sirius quickly tore apart the peal and began to eat the fruit.

They hadn't gone far into the new passage when he halted again. "Lupin," he turned on the Werewolf. "If you don't stop walking like that, I'll leave you here."

Remus paled.

"Not in the tunnel. I'll take you back to the dungeon."

"I'm not used to such tight clothes," Remus sounded pathetic and Sirius laughed around his mouthful of orange.

His laugh echoed against the stones, but instead of getting quieter it got louder and turned to a cacophony of cackles and hoots.

"We could help the pretty-pretty with his tight clothes," a sickeningly eager voice called from a tunnel to their right.

"Thanks so much for the offer Shunt," one blue eye sparked. "But he is my pretty-pretty and I don't share." He grabbed a fistful of black jacket and white undershirt and pulled them both along. "They are covered by the treaty that your people took with the Lady Door, and you don't want to break that, with me."

~

They were followed for the rest of their trip through the tunnels. The Morlocks never approached them as closely as that first time, but they weren't far.

~

A smallish basement door that had been locked was all that stood between them and Hogsmead now. He had made short work of forcing the lock, it was getting easier with practice, and he waited until the other two had cleaned themselves up before opening the door.

"So, Morlocks live under the streets of Hogsmead?" Sirius remarked.

"We need to get to the port-booth without attracting another mob of spectators. You had better have learned from your last mistake," he checked both ways on the road and led the way out into the sleeping village. "There are Ministry agents here who would like nothing better than to catch you Black, and I have no treaty to beg off of with them."

~

All muggle telephone booths have a number. This is so that if, for some insane reason, a psychopath from the movies wants to play phone tag with the police, they can. It is utterly useless in nearly any other situation to memorize the phone number for a public booth. Some public phone booths though are not just phone booths they are also port-booths. Memorizing the number to a port-booth is immensely useful and has many helpful applications. 

He calmly picked up the receiver and, after checking for a dial tone, began to punch in a long series of numbers. All the while his left eye kept tracking the ministry agent across the square. Lupin was trying to act like he was waiting to meet someone. Black, because of his dark jacket and slacks, was trying to blend in with the shadows without looking like he was trying to hide in the shadows. 

__

'Black looks like he just crawled out of Knock Turn and Lupin looks like he's waiting for a hooker. They're gonna get themselves arrested before I can even get them to the Raven.' The line picked up and he dropped the receiver so that it hung by its cord.

Sirius ambled over and picked it up checking for the dial tone. As they had arranged before hand all he needed to do was hit the star key. The receiver to his ear, there was the familiar pull like with a port-key. Then he was in another booth, an ocean away from Remus and the thing that he was sure was a Garom. 

For some reason he was slightly surprised to find that the sun was still fairly high on the horizon. _'Real smart Sirius, of course it's not as late here, it's only like five hours difference.'_

Not long after Sirius stepped out Remus appeared within the glassy box. "Man I hate those things," he grumbled putting the receiver back on its hook and joining Sirius on the sidewalk.

"So, this is Toronto," Remus said after a few minutes.

"Yah," Sirius was getting tired of the noise of the Muggle automobiles.

When he finally appeared, he had changed his robes into a long midnight-green duster jacket. A black shirt was some how tucked into black jeans so tight they looked painted on. The scarf tied around his head (and over his bruised eye) was green and silver. To top it off he still had the gloves, boots, and collar from his Garom uniform. 

As he stepped out of the booth he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked up and down the street, checking the traffic and pedestrians. _'Everything looks right. Now all I've gotta do, is keep them busy till Janet opens her doors for the night.'_

They were staring at him and he let them. When he finally turned to them his face was as blank as if he were in a coma. "Well," the word slipped from his throat like a thin trail of smoke on a soft breeze. "We have a few hours to kill." He looked back down the street, his every move was lazily indifferent, "You wanna see what trouble we can get into before sunset or would you rather just lay low?"

"Exactly what kind of place is the Raven," Remus asked uncertainly.

He slowly blinked a few times before it sank in, "Oh, you mean," he looked down at his own attire with the shade of a grin. "Janet runs a respectable place. I'm not at all dressed properly for it." He watched a plainclothes officer approach a drug dealer and as the cop was cuffing the scanky punk he asked again, "So, what ya wanna do?"

"Where would we go if we said we wanted to get some trouble?"

Sirius was challenging him, and it was so stupid it was funny, but there was too much to pay attention to, to take the time to laugh. "A crackhouse I know of down the street."

"And if we want to lay low?"

"We go for ice-cream." 

Lupin broke in, "What's a crack house?"

He led the way down the street as Sirius explained what little he knew of the Muggle drug scene.

They spent the next hour or so, sitting in a small diner eating the house specialty, triple fudge choco-mint Sundays. The two Gryffindor alumni sat on one side of the table, Sirius had tried to get the seat that faced the door but **he **stole it.

Slouching in his chair he watched them eat, he hadn't ordered anything, and watched the other customers as they ate.

"What do you see?" Lupin's quiet question was nearly lost in the ambient noise of the crowded diner.

Softly he answered, "I see eleven bodies that could be used as shields, they wouldn't fight back. The choice would of course depend upon which exit I decided to go for, and there are fourteen exits." His dusky blue eye continued to sweep the area, "I see two people who are carrying guns but only the woman would actually pull hers. Three tables to your right is a mother who abuses her six year old son, and a girl on the far side of the room is too young to be in the relationship that he is about to end. I think she'll get teary eyed and do something stupid and mild in retaliation. A delivery truck just went by for the third time, it's his first week on the job and he doesn't know the back entrance here. I see so many other things… but you wouldn't understand them."

~ 

They went to a park. Watched a pick-up basketball game, Sirius tried to explain the rules to Remus. They saw a street performer doing **magic**. Eventually the sun set.


	22. Friends?

Some of this chapter is based on a TV series called Forever Knight, I do not own Forever Knight. Some of this chapter is based on a series of books entitled Harry Potter and the whatever the particular title of the book in question has written by J. K. Rowling, I do not own the Harry Potter series (not even copies) and I do not own J. K. Rowling. 

This chapter is dedicated to Hope. I am crossing my fingers that you'll like this. Sunna caught my misquote of the lyrics to the song, which is awkward 'cause I really do listen to this stuff. Thanks Sunna! 

Chapter Forty-three:

The Raven. The red neon sign wore a lurid halo thanks to a thin fog that had rolled in at sunset. He paused to let Sirius give another of his annoyingly quaint explanations. 

"You've been hiding in Muggle-Muggle land haven't you," he interrupted and rolled his shoulders in an effort to dispel the tension that was building in him. 

"Well I couldn't very well hide in Hogsmead."

"Muggle lover," he breathed as he pulled open the door and tilted his head to motion them in.

As soon as they crossed the threshold Remus was acutely aware that a large percentage of the clubs patrons were not among the living. Suddenly Sirius' high neckline and sunglasses seemed like a good idea. 

People started to notice the trio and some called out greetings, "Hey, Necro! Long time no see." "Necro I thought you had moved on." "Made up your mind yet Neco?" and other things that made less sense.

"Are they talking to you," Sirius asked It.

"Like I told you," he shrugged comfortably, "I don't exactly have a name. They call me Necro, the Morlocks call me Breaker, I go by many names but none of them is mine."

He led them to a table in the back and a rather pretty girl (she had been bitten at he age of fourteen) took their orders and returned a few minutes later with their drinks.

"Don't get much call for Ogden's Old," she unnecessarily brushed against Sirius as she put his drink down. "And a gin and tonic for the handsome Were." She winked as she placed Remus' glass in front of him. "And for Necro… nothing, as usual." She smiled sweetly and swayed her hips all the way back to the bar.

"Gina," he shook his head in a dismissive manner. "She is a flirt, obviously, but she's not as easy as she makes herself out to be. I've never known her to actually accept anyone but her master. And he treats her like the child she is."

"I understand Necromancer," Sirius took a sip of his whisky, "But what does Breaker mean?"

"If you two are going to be fine for a while, I'll go see if I can find Nick." He stood and pushed his chair back in, "and it's short for Necrophile." He loosely imitated Gina's walk as he made his own way to the bar.

"Janet, dear," he crooned to a willowy dark-haired woman in her early thirties. "Have you seen Nick yet?"

"Necro, I thought I saw you come in, with two thumpers," a hint of French still clung to her words.

He slumped against the bar and regarded her through the hair that fell into his eyes.

"What happened to your eye?" she was concerned and nearly reached out to touch his face. At a sound low in his throat her hand dropped back to her side. "Nick has not had time to get here from his loft, he might pick up Natalie first and that will push him further behind. I expect that if he arranged to meet you then he will not be more than an hour." She glanced over his shoulder, "Now I think you should go back and get your friends out of trouble."

He looked back and swore under his breath, "Of all the-" There was a tall blonde Vamp built like a muggle pro-wrestler leaning over the table trying to get Sirius mad enough to start a fight. _'Great just what I needed.'_ He drifted across the room, "Hullo, Blow Jack," he drawled coming to a halt behind the Vamp in question.

Brown eyes not backing down from Sirius for a moment, "It's Lo-Jack, pup," he growled, "The last one to call me that-"

"Had stringy black hair blue eyes and kicked your ass," one corner of his mouth quirked up as the hulking brute turned to face him.

"Necro." It was less than friendly, even with the smile. "It's been nearly twenty years, a long time for a mortal, and you remember me? I'm touched."

"You'll be more than touched if you don't back off on my charges." He didn't need to put force behind the words.

The air became charged, every Vampire in the building felt it, the subtle shift in power. An Ancient had just arrived.

LaCroix at more than a millenium in age was truly an Ancient. Short grey hair, a fair build, hazel-grey eyes that told of countless ages come and gone. He took another step into the room and smiled. It was slightly creepy, as he didn't force his mouth into that particular shape often. It was a genuine smile none the less.

"Remus J. Lupin?" he approached the table that had been the center of attention and offered his hand to the Werewolf. "It has been far too long, in mortal time. And your friend…" he took a moment to assess Sirius, " Black, I am correct?" Remus nodded. "Now what seems to be the trouble," he fixed Jack with a disapproving gaze.

"He," a finger stabbed toward 'Snape,' "Is here against pact and threatening us." 

'Snape' at the time was leaning against one of the decorative pillars that separated the drinking and dining portion of the establishment from the dance floor. He responded to the charges by crossing his arms over his chest.

"I had heard that you were back," LaCroix's voice was cultured, vaguely French, "I had also heard that you were dead."

"Dead, an unusual word from a Vampire," he straitened his back and threaded the spaces between the tables and chairs to stand before the Vampire lord. "LaCroix I have no quarrel with you, don't start one with me."

"Can I buy you a drink then?" the only ones not shocked by LaCroix's offer, were a couple necking in the back and they weren't aware of much of anything.

"What!" the outrage in the blonde Vamp's exclamation matched his expression. 

Gina rushed over and, shyly (for once) took LaCroix's order, "And for you," he raised an inviting hand to 'Necro.' 

"A Black Ice, I think," came the bored response.

"Are you just going to let him get away with this?! On our territory?!" Jack was not backing off and no runty blue eyed freak was going to humiliate him again.

Gina handed him a goblet and LaCroix answered with eyes half lidded, "And what would you have me do Jack?"

"If you are still the keeper of this territory you could always take his creds."

"The taking of credits is a very complicated thing. Necro has proven himself to me," he took a sip of his Bloodwine. "You have not."

"I don't need to prove myself to you! I am your son! He needs to prove his innocence, that is the law."

Lazily 'Necro' took a seat at LaCroix's table and when Gina brought his tumbler of Black Ice he took it from her tray before she could pick it up to hand it to him.

"Are you formally accusing Necro of coming here, on a hunt, without declaring his target to me?"

"Yes!"

"Necro," LaCroix stood and waited for him to do the same. "I have been given a formal challenge. I stand and formally give credit to your honour. The challenge was to your honour, which I have formally testified to. I disavow all ties of rightful vengeance that I hold on Jack and demand satisfaction for **my** honour, which he has formally questioned."

Bowing his head Lacroix sat back down and took another sip of his drink.

"You what?!" Jack spun from 'Necro' to LaCroix.

"You can not possibly think that I would challenge Necro. For you?" a short, quiet chuckle, "You may issue your challenge to him directly, or you may take it back and forfeit one of your own credits. But I will have my honour upheld either way, he will kill you and I will no longer have to put up with your hotheadedness. Or you will be cowed, and I don't have to put up with your hotheadness."

Remus was becoming nervous. It had been a surprise to see LaCroix after all these years, but this was not the kind of reunion that he would have hoped for. _'Not that I could really say that I hoped to see him again… but he did help me when no one else would. I can't believe this is all happening because Sirius wanted to know who was a Vamp and who was still alive.'_

"Are these seats taken?" The question came from a tall sandy hared vamp.

"Uh, no." Remus wasn't sure that a Vamp at the table was a good idea, _'Especially not if this comes down to a duel.'_

"Janet told me that you came in with Necro," he was obviously trying to start a conversation. Taking a moment to seat the woman with curly red-brown hair that had been standing by his side, he held out his hand. "I'm Nick."

"Remus Lupin," he shook the offered hand and nudged Sirius under the table to tell him to do the same.

"Sirius Black." He tried not to flinch at the feel of room temperature skin.

"This is Natalie," they both looked at the woman with a great deal more interest.

"So you're the ones he brought us here to meet," Remus looked over and saw the blonde Vamp trying to hypnotize a very unimpressed 'Snape.' "He's busy right now."

Chapter Forty-four:

Nearly an hour later they managed to get out of the Raven without killing anyone (for the first or second time.)

He led them down several dark and rather unfriendly streets cutting through lots and alleys on a direct rout to the car that he had arranged for. It was there. The rental car was at the right place at the right time. _'Maybe things won't get worse.'_

"A Ford Taurus?" Sirius had expected something a great deal more outrageous.

He checked under the driver's side door for the magnetic key holder, "Yah, get in the back," he opened the driver's side door and unlocked the others. "Lupin you get to ride in the front." He revved the engine (as much as you can rev a rented Taurus) and waited impatiently for Lupin to figure out the door latch.

"A Ford Taurus LX?" Sirius repeated in disbelief once they were on their way.

"Yah, spruce green with medium parchment interior. You two want to buckle your seatbelts?"

He had to take extra time at a stoplight to help Remus. First to find his belt, then to actually buckle it in.

As they turned right onto Bloor Street West Sirius leaned in between the front seats (he had slid over to sit in the middle) "Why am I in the back?"

"Because," one corner of his mouth pulled up slightly, "He doesn't know how to mess with the radio." Sirius couldn't see the grin but he heard it, just before the cabin of the car was filled to overflowing with Hungry Like the Wolf, by Duran Duran. He lip-sanch the words.

Dark in the city, night is a wire 

Steam in the subway, earth is a fire 

Do-do do doo, do do doo, do do do, doooo 

Woman you want me, give me a sign 

And catch my breathing even closer behind 

Do-do do doo, do do doo, do do do, doooo 

Sirius had had more than the one whisky and it wasn't very long until he nodded off and tipped over to sleep on his side.

Turning the radio down some he glanced over at Lupin.

"Why are we going to America?" Remus asked.

"Because that's where they insist on keeping UnderNewYork," he adjusted the station as it went out and brought up more eighty's techno. 

"Then why are we going to UnderNewYork? We have the test results, what is in UnderNewYork that you need?"

"Her name is Cardigan. I need to call in an old debt from her."

Seeing that he was getting nowhere, except New York, Remus pulled out the files that he had received from Natalie, "Do you mind if I-"

Rather than distract every driver they passed by letting Lupin use Lumos he reached up and turned on the map light.

"Thanks."

Pages were slowly flipped. A while before the New Jersey border he had to stop for gas. By the time he got back in the car Lupin had taken off his seatbelt and fallen asleep with his head propped up on the armrest they had been sharing. 

~

At midnight he stopped to take a sip of the red potion that he always had on him. _'Stuff tastes awful, can't imagine why he insists.'_ Remus half woke while he was putting away an empty syringe.

Unable to stretch out enough to get comfortable Remus blindly pushed at the barrier. It moved up, he stretched out enough to fall back asleep, and kilometers eventually became miles.

~

"It's time to wake up."

As Remus continued to slowly awaken, he became aware that the car had stopped. He tried to open his eyes and sit up, but the movement was too much and he sank back down. _'I must have had way more to drink than I thought. I don't even remember him putting me in the back with Sirius.'_ He groaned at the throbbing headache that was making itself known, "Sorry Sirius, I can't get up yet." 

"That's ok."

Something was wrong. A gloved palm brushed the stubble on his cheek.

"I don't think he cares too much. He hasn't woken up yet."

"Gloves?" he rolled enough to look up, into a darkly blue eye.

"Not really," he looked at the half-glove on his right hand with a watery smile. "No, not really. Just like the rest of me." He had to turn his head, till his chin was nearly touching his right shoulder, so that he could look into Remus eyes. That didn't seem like such a good idea, now that the Werewolf was awake.

"You're not Sirius." He tried to get up again, and again he fell back down into the other's lap.

"And you're not sober. We **are** about two kilometers from the place where I was planning to drop off the car though, so you should start to wake up soon." He pulled back onto the New Jersey Turnpike, just before it became Newark Avenue. "Here," he fished a smallish hip flask from a pocket in his jacket and put it in Remus' unsteady hand. "It should help with the worst of the hangover. They have yet to create a perfect hangover remedy, but this is one of the better."

"Thanks," Remus some how sloshed enough of the bitter fluid into his stomach to do some good. "I'm still tired…" He felt the other catch the flask before it fell from his hand. "… sorry…"

"Hey, Black," he called to the figure stirring to life in the back seat. "Here, drink," he handed the flask back and Sirius took a swig and passed it forward before collapsing onto the backseat again. 

~

__

'Why did I touch him? It wasn't The Other's influence, he's so stoned right now he couldn't tell Gilly Weed from Devil's Snare. So why did I do it?' He caught himself flexing his right hand and instead roughly gripped the steering wheel. The warmth that he had half expected to feel at the contact was slow to fade.

~

"Are you sure you know where we're going," Sirius asked for the fifth time since they had left the car. "Cause that looks like the same Beny' Discount Porn shop we passed three minutes ago."

"It is and I am. You could help me you know," things were not getting better. The Taurus had lied.

"How," Sirius challenged.

"By shutting up for two minutes."

One minute and twenty-seven seconds of silence later, he found what he was after. To the Silent Sirius and Remus it looked like he was politely asking a rat for the location of the Wandering Market. He was. When he and the rat parted ways he knew where they had to go, the shortest rout there, and whose territory he would pass through.

"It's set up at the Empire State Building, in the lowest three levels of the main parking garage, and it closes at sunrise so we need to hurry if we're going to have time."

"Time for what," Sirius asked as they hurried down another alley.

"Cardigan is a WFIG." He started an easy run and the other two kept pace.

"Whiffig?"

"It was ratified by a Meeting of the Global Council of Magic. While you were in prison, apparently. Witness for Innocence of the Guilty is what it, and they, stands for. I need time to find Cardigan and get you free."

~

UnderNewYork turned out to be a great deal like UnderLondon. It was hard to feel letdown though; any Under-city was like a treat and a trick rolled into one.


	23. Echoes And Reverb

This is my longest chapter so far. It and all of the chapters before it did not come into existence without a great deal of inspiration from the writer J. K. Rowling. Harry Potter and all that he shares the books 1-4 with are not contributing to my financial wellbeing.

Chapter Forty-five:

The inhabitants of UnderNewYork looked (to anyone not familiar with the difference) like ordinary street people. They wore the same ragged mismatched assortment of cast off clothes. Knew most of the same forgotten short cuts. Ate from many of the same serve-yourself-buffets (also known as dumpsters) and generally were unnoticed in any real way by anyone of **consequence**. 

The major difference between those who were just street people and those that had become citizens of UnderNewYork was actually tied into that last point. The homeless, or street people, or bums, or pick your favorite term were (and still are) actively ignored. It took/takes effort on the part of the Ignorer to ignore the Ignoree (the ignoree being, by default, a bum.) Citizens of the various Under-cities all over (or under) the world have fallen through the cracks as it were and are no longer capable of being actively ignored by persons of **consequence**.

He led them without error through the confusing part bazaar part flea market part town dump that was the Wandering Market. Pushing their way through the crowds on the ramps that led to the lower levels of the Empire State Building's main garage, Remus and Sirius stuck close to their guide. Together the three reached the back of the lowest level without loosing anyone.

"Where did he go?" Sirius grabbed Remus' sleeve and looked about worriedly.

"I saw him just a second ago," Remus began scanning the milling crowd too.

It had taken only a momentary rush of bodies to block their sight and he vanished.

"There!" Sirius spotted him at a vendor's stall and pointed.

They crossed the space that was supposed to be a path for walking and forced their way to the junk booth where a familiar dark head was bent in close conversation with man who periodically looked up to cry, "Lost stuff! Only the truly lost and nothing less!"

"What, were you thinking?!" Sirius yelled when they were close enough.

He broke off his negotiations with the peddler long enough to cast Black a look of utter disdain. "Yes I'll take it," he handed over a ten-pound note with a grocery list paperclipped to it.

"Always a pleasure Kilroy," the short, round faced, trader chuckled as he tossed over a bright red Remmebrall.

"Are you ready to get on with it now Black? Or do you have anything else you wanted to check out," he asked with a mockingly patient tone as he flipped the Remembrall into the air and caught it. "They close soon and you still need to meet with Cardigan." 

"Yes, fine," Sirius ground between his teeth, "I'm ready to go now." They started off again, keeping closer together this time. "I will wring Its skinny neck if It gets any more insane." Sirius didn't make an effort to keep his voice down when he spoke to Remus.

"So," Remus quickly changed the subject, "They call you Kilroy here huh? Do you have any other names?"

"I don't really have any name. That's why everyone tries to pin me down the way they do. If you name a thing it is not as frightening as the thing that is still un-named." He walked up to a filthy purple curtain and pulled it aside. Motioning them forward he leaned in as Black passed him, "Play rough with me and you'll find out why the Morlocks call me Breaker."

"Let me guess," Sirius knew he was being stupid but couldn't hold back the retort, "It's because you break people?"

The narrow hall that the curtain had hidden, went down and to the left. Remus led the way with Sirius behind him and their guide at the rear. 

"A Giant can break your body. A Dementor can break you soul. I can break you. Hello Lady Cardigan."

The tight passage ended in a fairly spacious storage closet. A woman with long auburn and blue streaked hair sat in the middle of the room on an overturned bucket.

She dipped her chin, "Kilroy, as you're not dead I'll assume this is about the cred I owe." Her voice was like tangy honey and did not at all fit with the battered grey cardigan that she wore.

"This is the man I told you of," he waved a hand at Sirius. "I brought the serum," he pulled a small square bottle out of a coat pocket and tossed it to her. "Do you require anything else?" 

She shook her head and her hair swished against her shoulders and back, "Nay, just go out for a few minutes I need to focus."

Nodding once in a slight bow, "Lupin," he ushered the Werewolf back into the narrow hall and up into the madness of the market.

~

"What is this?" Remus asked taking another bite of the meat kabob.

They were leaning against a concrete barrier that was meant to separate the trafic as cars came down to park or headed back up into Above New York. Lupin was eating and 'Killroy' was again lazily watching people go about their lives.

"Uhm, cat." He answered after a pause.

"Really," Remus looked at the meat on the stick in his hand, "So they are good for something." He took another bite and truly enjoyed it.

He absorbed the frenzied crowds, it was almost closing time and they were hurrying to get their bargains. "I hope she gets done before six. I'm not going to be able to get you out if she takes any longer than that." Since coming into the Wandering Market he had seemingly gone back into Low Power Mode, as Sirius had started calling it.

"Uht a'out a ort-oof?" Lupin asked with his mouth full of cat.

"'What about a port-booth?'" he waited for Lupin's nod before answering rather testily, "If a port-booth were a viable option I wouldn't have driven all night with you in my lap."

Remus wiped his mouth with his sleeve; it didn't seem to matter too much here. "I was hung over. Why couldn't you use a port-booth?" He wasn't even paying attention anymore, Remus sighed and changed his tactics again, "If we can't use a port-booth, how are we getting home?"

"I will force you. Cardigan should be done with just enough time left to allow me to gather the energy. If she takes too long I'll start to loose ground. Tala?!" he jumped to his feet.

A slender woman spun on her heel, her waist length glossy black hair fanned out and her hot brown eyes darted around trying to find whoever had called her name.

She gasped, "Rip?" she was jostled from behind and swiftly made her way to his side. "Rip, it has been almost two years! Then I started to hear rumors that Natalie was doing some work for you. Is it true, do you have a cure?"

"Tala, I would like for you to meet Remus J. Lupin. The Were that I told you I was working with. I'm not done yet but the error you just made is the entire point." 

Remus dropped his eyes to the litter strewn ground as she turned to face him, _'How could he do that?! Just tell some woman that I'm a Were, like I'm some topic for small talk._ _The fact that Tala is a rather attractive woman doesn't' come into it at all, of course. '_

"The, Remus Lupin?" 

Remus' eyes snapped up to meet hers, she had sounded almost awed, _'Well awed might be a bit much, but she definitely doesn't sound repulsed.'_

Tala stared at him with a look of, almost, incomprehension. He now occupied her full attention. 

They were looking each other over and he just had to break in before a mood developed, "You were expecting something else?"

"I guess in my mind I had built him up to be half god or something," she answered without taking her eyes off of Remus.

In Lupin's view he **rudely** broke in again, "What are you doing here, I thought you were still living in Kentford Shire."

Remus found his voice, "Tala, a stalking wolf, which tribe is that from?" 

She blushed slightly and it turned her bronze skin a very pleasant shade, "I'm not sure exactly. My mother was Hopi, but I was named by my father. I know nothing about him though, we don't speak of him."

"I'm sorry," Remus could have kicked himself.

(We don't speak of so-and-so had become the socially accepted way of saying that so-and-so had joined the Dark Lord.)

They talked about the parallels between some of the traditional Hopi medicine dances and the modern swish-and-flick. And about the controversy over whether Skinwalkers had been early Animagi or were in fact Were-creatures. She was impressed with his knowledge of many of the Native American cultures, and he was impressed at how well adjusted she was for being a fairly new Were Coyote.

"Now would be a good time to go Lupin. Black is done. I would lie and say that it's been nice to see you Tala, but I wouldn't get anything out of it so… bye." He pulled at Lupin's sleeve until with obvious reluctance they parted with sickeningly happy smiles. "Black," he dragged Lupin to the shaken man. "Did she get what you needed?"

"Yah. She said we can't take a port-key or anything like that, or it would erase the evidence." 

"Ok, then let's get out of here." He led them to a door marked Do Not Enter. Not An Exit, which he promptly entered, of course. They were now on the landing of a stairwell that was designed as a safety backup in case of fire. "It's almost time, I need to hurry. It will probably be rough on you. I'm truly sorry for this, I don't have the strength to do anything else."

__

'I've heard something like that before.' Lupin thought.

A flash of light, the world spun violently. Suddenly they were in a park on the West End of Hogsmead in the middle of a settling cloud of glitter.

Remus and Sirius crumpled to the ground, over come with nausea. They moaned softly and didn't notice when he swallowed some of the warm, crimson potion he always carried. After several minutes they were able to slowly regain their feet.

He was utterly spent. There was nothing left. Even another injection would be useless. He ticked off his orders in a last effort to focus, _'Try to find something to treat Lupin. Find a way to clear Black's record. Get them both back to Hogwarts. I have done all but the last now Master.' _

Chapter Forty-six:

"When she said I couldn't use a port-key I didn't think she meant that I had to go through a blender," Sirius groaned softly.

Remus, as usual, had other things on his mind. Tala and the fraud specifically. He wasn't about to bring up Tala so it was topic number two that jumped out when his friend started to complain again. "Are you alright?" He asked the green clad maybe-a-Garom. 

"I'm fine. Well not fine really, but as far as I'll ever tell anyone I'm fine"

"You're not walking like you were when we started. You look tired," Remus tried again.

"You aren't walking the same way you were when we started either," he tossed the Remembrall up and caught it in a rhythmic motion.

"I got used to the pants. You still look tired, but I'll ask about something else if you'd rather," no response but the continued brief arch of the sphere. "How old are you?"

He caught and held the ball, "You don't remember? I thought it was only two weeks ago I told you. Well it **feels** like I told you three or four days ago, but it was about two weeks. I'm sure."

"You told me? But I didn't even know you existed two weeks ago."

"What are you playing at, I told you how old I was the first time we met." He stifled a cough and started to walk faster.

Lupin quickened his pace until he drew even with him, "You've been working on me in that lab of yours for two years, but we just met, at the most, two weeks ago?" 

Sirius had seen the two of them interacting over the past several hours and a few things were becoming clear. One, Remus for some reason was able to get It to make sense. Two, Remus and to a lesser degree he himself, were becoming quite dependant upon It for protection and care. Three, there was a master somewhere that held the invisible leash attached to Its collar. Lastly, for whatever reason, Its relationship with Snape was changing and they were expected to fill the gap.

"Remus," Black had an idea, "Ask It about the Remembrall."

"You call him an It but you have a problem when he does it to me? And now you want me to ask your questions for you?" Remus hissed back at him. In a clearer voice though he said, "What are you going to do with it?"

He glanced at the Remembrall, clutched tightly in his fist, and forced his hand to relax. Tossing and catching it again he spoke rather offhandedly, "It has some extra charms on it. Plus it has a colour indicator to tell you how critical the thing you've forgotten is, and the cloud in the center was replaced with an image of the thing you've forgotten. Or words that tell you what you were supposed to do." He continued to play catch as they entered a dark alley.

"Is it broken?" Lupin had begun following the ball with his eyes, every time it touched his fingertips there was a violent burst of activity.

"No," he held the small crystal orb on his fingertips like a Muggle magician. 

Remus leaned in, Sirius held back but watched closely nonetheless. Words in several different languages were mixed with what looked like complicated mathematics equations. They were flashing past so quickly all that could be gotten was an impression of physics and French calculus and Korean. On and on too many languages too many numbers all the while the images strobed just behind the writing. A silvery hallway was replaced by what looked like a class on human anatomy except that the woman's heart beat once before the image was replaced with dozens of children all looking exactly the same and walking in perfect synchronicity… He tossed the ball into the air and when it left his touch it went blank. When it touched him again there were more images more symbols and never a repeat.

"If it's not broken why does it do that?" Sirius mentally smacked himself as the words left his tongue, '_Remus is the one with the golden touch. I need to keep quiet. Or we'll never get anything straight.'_

"I don't know why it's blank, maybe I'm more messed up than I thought." He shrugged and ducked his head while walking through a wall that didn't appear to have a hole. 

" Don't you see that stuff?" Sirius spoke up again. "It has to be broken, just flashing old things." _'Am I incapable of shutting up?'_

"Are you asking me what I see?"

"How did you see all of that," Remus finally took over again and maneuvered back to something that he had wondered about earlier. The previous train of thought was irrevocably lost there was no reason to pursue it anymore.

"Invisible passages are no problem but a car door latch has you stumped," he mocked then abruptly changed to a distant unconcerned tone, "It's why I'm so laid back some times. I take in too much information too quickly and then I don't have enough room left for pretending to be normal." He stuffed the ball in a coat pocket and pointed forward, "Your rooms."

Black and Lupin looked around they were indeed back in the dungeons of Hogwarts. So caught up in watching the Remembrall, they hadn't even noticed reentering the school.

Sirius started for his hidden door but Remus held back a moment, something wasn't done yet.

"Lupin," he was starting to sweat and shake. It was stupid to try and fight back now. But he fought for control, even if it only got him a few more seconds. "I need to say something to you, please, understand…" The shaking was getting worse, " I don't know how to drive a car, but I can…" he was fading fast and he knew it. " Understand, how can you?!" _'One more breath! I can do this.'_ "I half lied to Tala. The results I got from Natalie were only a final check." 

He barely made it back to Snape's quarters. But he made it, and even managed to change into the other's clothes before falling back onto the bed and into the darkness of his prison. Snape would never know.

~

Snape woke up Saturday morning with a pounding heart and the feeling that he was in grave danger. Like a striking cobra his hand sought and drew his wand, a curse was half uttered before he realized it had been a dream.

He pulled himself up and stumbled off to take a shower. It didn't matter that he washed his hair daily. Greasy hair came with the job. But he washed it anyway.

It was after six so he went straight to breakfast instead of stopping by his classroom first. Breakfast was revolting, as usual. He forced down a half bowl of porridge anyway; he was on orders to eat more and it was never a good idea to defy the Dark Lord.

He had been able to get his usual seat, to Dumbledore's left. The Headmaster had greeted him with a warm smile and equally warm words, but it was an act. Long ago Voldemort had told him the truth. Now he was forced to make polite conversation with people ha couldn't fully trust again. Today that would change. _'She is coming today. All I have to do is hold on for a few more hours and then I'll have an ally I can trust.' _

Remus came into the Great Hall feeling well rested. For some reason the time lag hadn't messed with him as much as it had Sirius. Remus had gotten a better night's sleep driving from Toronto to New York and that helped some. He had also had less to drink at the Raven, and that no doubt helped some too. 

"Good morning, didn't expect to see you up so early-" whatever he had been about to follow that up with was lost when the black eyes of Snape looked at him with surprise and censure. "Sorry," he murmured under his breath as he slid into his seat. 

"It isn't your fault Lupin. Many things are, but not the morning." 

Remus took a sip of juice, "Why are you wearing that scarf around your head? I thought-"

"That if everyone expected me to have a bruised eye that I'm trying to cover till it's healed. That maybe I should bandage it whether or not I have a bruised eye that I'm trying to cover till it's healed?" To prevent further conversation Snape sipped some wine and started to try and force down the other half of his bowl of porridge. 

~

The students Third year and up had been dismissed to Hogsmead. The women hoping to get the position of Head of Slytherin had started to arrive. Snape wasn't clear as to why they didn't seem to be interviewing men for Huffelpuff but shrugged it off, it was only Huffelpuff after all. It soon became clear that the event was going to become A Gathering. A rather traditional misappropriation of any event that happened to be, even remotely, potions oriented.

Male and female Potion Masters and apprentices mingled freely and sampled every delicate finger food that the Hogwarts House Elves could think of. Unlike in most professions there was a strong bond between Potions Masters, mostly because they would all die for their individual causes sooner or later. (All depending upon the volatility of the cause in question.) Friends and colleagues caught up on each other's work. (No one mentioned health.) If you didn't show up it was because you were either; in the middle of a project and others could share your latest news or, because you were dead in which case no one would bring you up at all and everyone would know before long.

Most of the Hogwarts faculty had opted to go into Hogsmead with the students. Most said it was so they could chaperone, a few claimed to be worried about safety. Snape knew they were too weak to stomach it, that was the reason, the real reason.


	24. Saturn's Day

Some is mine some isn't. What isn't mine I don't claim. 

Some of you have been reading this for a while and so, aren't aware that I have been going back and 'tinkering' with some of the chapters. I have added to the author notes in some of the chapters. One of my best reviewers (Sunna) has a gift for drawing, she has drawn some pics based on a few scenes in this fic. The url's for these pics can be found in the author notes for chapters: 10; 16; 20; and 21. Please check them out. Her main page url is listed in the author note for chapter 1. This is a temporary notice and will be taken down about a week after I post, so… Go. See. Obsess!

And, People! I still need help with a Scottish accent for Hagrid. I'm working on a chapter where we actually hear from him and he'll sound just like everyone else if I don't get help. 

Chapter Forty-seven:

After a tense Saturday breakfast Remus had returned to his quarters and worked at finishing grading some papers. Harry had come down and visited with his godfather for a while then they had invaded Remus' quarters and played Wizard poker. (The major differences that Harry could see between it and Muggle poker were that the cards would offer advice and occasionally cheat on their own.) It was fun, but eventually he left to go with his friends to Hogsmead. When he had shut the door Sirius waited several seconds. Then he hit the roof. 

"No way!" he shouted, "You saw it too right?! And now you're going to ask me to treat It like It's human or something!" Remus opened his mouth to try and defend himself; Sirius cut him off again, " I know you, it's exactly what you were going to say. The woman, on the table, Remus you saw her too." 

"Yes I saw her but the pictures were flashing so fast, I'm not sure what was really going on. Maybe it was one of the classes he took to become a coroner. Like you thought earlier," he reminded.

"What was really going on, **Remus**, was her chest was cut open her ribs were spread and her heart was still beating. There is no Magic or Muggle procedure that I know of that requires that while the patient is awake."

"How do you know she was awake? If she was awake she should have been screaming or struggling or something!" Remus shouted back.

"If she wasn't awake then why was she tied down- her wrists were tied down, you saw that didn't you?"

"I don't know what I saw. It was all black with silver outlines," Remus dropped into a chair and held his head in his hands.

"Black Remus," he sat in the armchair across from Lupin, "Red means that time is running out and black means it's almost too late. He forgot about a vivisected woman and it is almost too late. The hallway is almost too late. And near the end, what was that supposed to be? Some kind of swim class, where everyone's hands and feet were tied? **That** is almost too late? How could time be almost up for a model of a human skeleton?!" He pushed back in his chair and it obligingly became a recliner. "I'm not sure I can think of him as an It after what he's done for me. But now he seems more like a monster than before."

"What was that like? Meeting a Witness I mean." An obvious topic change, but one they both needed.

Sirius sat up quickly, "She started the whole thing off by saying that there were always at least two witnesses. I told her 'Ya me and the guy who really betrayed my dead friend, and neither of us is going to testify.'"

Remus softly Accio-ed his chess set from the shelf and began setting up the board on the low table between them. "After I found out you were innocent I applied for a Witness. I really did."

"I know, I just wish it could have been done sooner," Sirius took the white (he had been black last time.) "I missed so much time with Harry… How much do you know about the Witnesses?"

"Almost nothing," Remus shrugged, "they are very well protected and in high demand. The Witnesses were established as a sort of backlash to the conviction frenzy that happened at the end of the war. They're supposed to be telepathic or something and that's about all anyone knows."

"Well Cardigan is the Witness for North America, the whole continent. There is another one for South America, one for all of China, and so on." Sirius pushed his queen's pawn up two and tried to remember all that Cardigan had said. "She was chosen because she's a strong Telepath and was able to pass the integrity and intelligence tests that the Global Wizards' Council decided upon."

Remus moved his king's knight forward and gave Sirius time to get things straight in his head. Freedom and a clean record were suddenly within reach, the impossible happened last night. _'And it was because of him…'_

Sirius moved his queen's bishop's pawn up one (he was going for a queen's gambit) "I took some Veritaserum and she stepped into my mind. She used a globe that's sort of a cross between a Pensieve and a Remembrall and, based on her reputation and brainwave signature…"

"You go free," Lupin finished for him.

@--'---,-------

Alastor caught up with Albus soon after breakfast, they headed to Albus' office and after charming the door for silence they got down to business.

"He looked bad," Moody announced without preamble as he took a seat by the fire.

Albus summoned his favorite reading chair from his Quiet Corner, "He had a rough night. I think he used that Heroin substitute he worked out last time."

Alastor huffed, "So they're polarizing? That was not what I wanted to hear."

"And Severa?" Dumbledore countered.

"The same, just less violently."

Moody leaned forward, "We need to tip the balance. They are going to gain strength from being together just as Severus and Severa will. It's another stalemate that we can't afford."

"No," Albus shook his head slowly, "Severus and Severa need to bond first. Right now they are too weak to survive the separation."

Moody jabbed a finger into his palm ticking off things as he spoke, "It took him three years to gain the strength to work independently, and another two to accept Lupin as a charge. Even if he has started to accept Black already, I don't see how he will have enough time to bond with her."

Dumbledore took off and rubbed at his glasses, "Severus was treated much more harshly than Severa and it created walls that needed breaking down. After Remus was able to get through Sirius had a nearly clear path."

"I would be surprised if Snape even noticed that I was at the table this morning," Alastor growled. "You say he had a rough night, I say he's slipping. He knows about her, Voldemort told him."

"Maybe we were wrong to even start this," Albus said accepting the tumbler of Ogden's Old that Alastor held out to him. "Maybe we were wrong to do what we did."

"Maybe we were," Moody took a sip from his own glass while staring into the fire, "But I wouldn't trade her. Not even for your life, my friend."

"I wouldn't trade him for you either." 

Alastor nodded, "We give them time."

"And when the time comes," Albus held his glass out, "we finish what we started."

With wan smiles they clinked glasses and drank on it.

"So," Alastor asked with a wryly, "How are you planning to hire her without it seeming like pseudo-nepotism?"

Albus' eyes twinkled, "That is the easiest of our problems to solve. To keep from looking like I'm hiring her because you and I are friends, I don't hire her." Moody looked skeptical and he chuckled, "He hires her and I am informed afterward."

~

The informal Potion's Convention didn't break up until long after the tall pale woman had been hired. After dinner in the Great Hall, Snape Lupin and Miss Moody headed down the stairs to the dungeons.

"I don't mean to be rude," Lupin began as politely as he could. "But I didn't know Alastor Moody had a daughter." _'And he's old enough to be your grandfather!'_ he added silently.

"I was adopted," she spoke with the same casual sneer that Snape used in conversation. 

Remus filed the idiosyncrasy away so that he could mention it to Sirius.

Chapter Forty-eight:

Remus rang the door chime until Sirius answered then pushed his way in and closed the door behind himself. "Sirius we need to rethink your little theory."

"I had a great day, thanks for asking. After you left I came back over here and cleaned my chimney, just for the heck of it. Then I found time to do even more reading."

"I told you they were hiring the new female Head of Slytherin today," Remus didn't wait for a reply, "Snape hired her. Albus didn't even review her resume, and she left Durmstrang to come here."

Sirius perked at that last one.

"It gets stranger," Remus assured him. "Her name is, Severa Moody."

Black didn't see the significance, "So, is she related to old Mad-eye?"

"Related? She's his bloody daughter!" Remus fell back into a chair, "She says she is adopted, so that's ok but," he struggled for a while trying to piece together half-felt impressions. "They look exactly the same," he said at last.

"You think she's actually his daughter?" 

"No Sirius, not Moody." Remus flung out his hands in frustration, "She looks exactly like Snape."

Sirius took a moment, "Well all Potion's Masters end up with black hair and dark eyes." He was grasping at straws because Remus still wasn't making sense, "They tend to be obsessive about their work, right? So they're usually on the thin side."

"Sirius!" Remus was suddenly deadly serious, "You don't get it. I 'm not talking about looking **alike**. I'm talking about looking **exactly** alike, like she's just a female version of Snape."

"Do you think they are taking Plasti-juice based on each other?" Sirius asked calmly.

"I don't know, you're the one that's been reading up on it. I prefer your other harebrained idea- that he's taking Plasti-juice based on the Garom so he can have more power." 

Sirius walked over to a table strewn with open books and pages of notes, "Here," he hefted a largish tome and passed it to Remus. "This is a progressive illustration of someone taking Plasti-juice." He used his wand to tap the drawing of a wizard in the center of the page. The Wizard was labeled (Wizard A2) "The time is sped up," he explained, "So every time he takes a drink it represents a six hour period."

Wizard A2 began taking sips of Plasti-juice every thirty seconds. In the upper left-hand corner was a still shot of the animated Wizard before he began taking the Plasti-juice (Wizard A). There was also a still illustration in the upper right-hand corner of the page (Wizard B). The caption beneath Wizard B explained that this was the Wizard that the Plasti-juice had been based on, for the illustration. Wizard A2 had taken eight sips when the sequence ended. It had taken two days (in time lapse) to get the full effect, but now that it was done the change was obvious, sort of.

Unlike with Polly-juice Wizard A2 did not look like a copy of Wizard B. The Plasti-juice had instead blended the features of Wizard A with those of Wizard B. Wizard A2 looked like a cousin or middle brother.

"Why would anyone want to look sort of like someone else?" Remus asked.

Sirius closed the book and placed it back on the table, "The Idea isn't to look like someone else." He shuffled through his notes for a minute then, finding what he was after, he returned to Remus' side. "I figured it out," he smiled, "You don't take it to look **like** someone else, you take Plasti-juice when you **don't** want to look like yourself."

~

Sunday morning was quiet, as usual, and most of the students were playing outside. Pick-up Quiditch and Wizard's chess were the most popular, but some were playing on the edge of the water daring, First years to touch the Squid. Hermione was trying to teach Ron how to play Mancalla. Ron was having trouble believing that it could be all that fun if the pieces didn't even move on their own. And Aidan just laughed at them when Hermione had to explain the same rule for the fifth time.

~

The moon was high and the meeting was nearly over.

The Founders' table had a wood inlay pattern in the shape of the Hogwarts school crest. The table itself was a square with the corners cut off. The crest, was not the crest that could be found in various places on the school grounds. The H on the tabletop more closely resembled a cross, or an H when viewed from the seats around the table. 

At each of the four longer sides was a chair. Each chair was upholstered in the colors of one of the houses, with the respective house's crest embroidered on its back. In each ornately carved high-backed chair sat one of the four heads of the Order of the Phoenix.

There was no strict adherence to a format, they tended to informally discuss ideas strategies and plans. They voted on action and gave updates but didn't waste time with formal trappings and trimmings. The Order of the Phoenix had stood beside the Aurors to combat the Deatheaters twenty years ago. Now they stood alone.


	25. His And Hers

Author's note: Readers please note that the following work of fiction is not producing for the author of said work of fiction, monetary compensation for the many hours said author has devoted to the writing of said work of fiction. Thank you.

Chapter Forty-nine:

Four people, one from each House, were seated around the Founders' Table. Each had a function that they performed and together they, like the many who had headed The Order before them, served Good and fought Evil. 

Albus Dumbledore sat in the chair designated for the Gryffindor house representative. He was an advisor and coordinator, a sort of hub for the action of the other three. His experience and knowledge gathered over the years gave him a vantagepoint that was invaluable when things got too muddled and confused.

Opposite him sat Alastor Moody, in the Huffelpuff-yellow chair. His connections within and without the ministry made him an ideal source of classified information. With his experience in combat he also acted as a strategist planning the aggressive and preemptive strikes.

In the blue chair sat former Ravenclaw Rita Skeeter who absently twirled her wand, without a quill her fingers needed something to do. She was in charge of PR for the Order which, being a secret organization, meant that she was in charge of misinformation It was a task at which she excelled. She also offered an opposing opinion or alternate perspective whenever possible.

The Slytherin, as usual, was lying sideways his legs draped over one of the chair's arms with his head resting on the other. He didn't exactly have a name. He had fought on the frontlines, as a Deatheater, before Voldemort's fall. He had been a spy for the Order at the time and was acting in that role again. He had been given charge of Harry's safety two years ago. He rarely did anything the way people wanted him to and his handling of Potter was just another item on that rather long list. Though every chance they got they questioned his actions, no one had actually tried to countermand him. Not only was he in charge of Harry's protection, he was also head of the Alicorn Warriors. 

The Alicorn Warriors had continued on from the time of the founders, new members joining when old members were lost. They now served as the answer to Voldemort's Fates. Arranged in a two-tier system, five adult members and four students, the identities and training of the Alicorn Warrior members were a secret that had never been broken. No matter what had been done to members captured over the years none had talked.

Albus placed his folded hands on the tabletop. "I think we would all like to hear how the confrontation between Harry and Draco went." 

With one blue eye the Slytherin looked across the table, "I have to hand it to you Skeet," he held back a laugh, she did not like the nickname. "The script you wrote was marvelous. Malfoy nearly had Crabbe and Goyle feeling sorry for him. After that little sham of a show of vulnerability Malfoy stepped up his tormenting of Potter for a few days to make it look like he was kicking himself for opening up." 

"Are you sure that Draco's performance wasn't a little too authentic?" Rita arched a brow to emphasize her point.

"If you mean 'Is Lucius still beating him?' The answer is no. After I made it clear that Malfoy had my attention Lucius hasn't touched him. He remembers what happened last time."

Moody broke in before Skeeter could respond, "What about the mole? He's a solid member of the Order, have you given any consideration to having him join your ranks?"

He sat up at that, "Actually Moody, I have. I know you've wanted him in my circle for a while but I don't think he could take the oath. He isn't ready to forfeit a family and a life. The oath of the Alicorn Warriors isn't taken lightly and never if there is doubt."

"About the Alicorn Warriors," Albus spoke softly but clearly. " It is a cold fact that can't be said gently, but, you haven't replaced Cedric and you do need a full unit to function effectively."

He lay back again and stared into the shadows as he spoke to the group, "One of The Fates died in a sting last time. He, rather stupidly, took one last shot at an Auror he had a grudge against," he halted to glance at Moody then continued, "He wasn't replaced for nearly a year. Finding someone that can do the job isn't the problem; there were many qualified Deatheaters. The problem was finding someone who would never look back after giving up the required sacrifice."

"Is there anyone you are considering?" Albus asked carefully.

With reluctance he admitted that yes he was considering someone, "Susan Bones. She joined the Order rather early but she has outgrown her current placement. As an Alicorn she could be put to better use and she doesn't want children or a mate."

Albus posed another carefully worded question, "Then, you have brought the Alicorn Warriors back up to a fully active state since I wrote you?"

"They have been fully functional since last time. I left them arranged so that they could identify and train likely candidates from the Order. The only set back we have suffered was when Diggory died."

They were silent for a few moments.

Rita Skeeter broke the silence with the next topic, "How should I play the hiring of the co-Heads of House?"

"What do you mean?" Albus asked.

"I can make it a puff piece about you're being conscious of the latest trends in child psychology, or I could head the other way. Make it another bit on how you're just trying to catch up with the rest of the academic community."

~

The meeting broke up at eleven thirty on the dot. 

~

Monday morning saw two extra places at the Head Table. The seating arrangements themselves differed slightly from the norm as well. 

Albus rose and gave a long-winded (for him) introduction of the new Heads of House. Each stood as their name was announced then sat. "I am pleased to introduce to you the new co-Head of Huffelpuff. Professor Moody will also be operating as head of school security. Our new co-Head of Gryffindor, Professor Lupin… I would like to introduce to you all, the only new face here, Miss Severa Moody co-Head of Slytherin. She will be assisting Professor Snape in Potions And finally our new co-Head of Ravenclaw, Professor Sinistra..." He smiled broadly and announced the start of breakfast by sitting down and beginning to serve himself.

The student body as a whole was not surprised by the introduction of the co-Heads of the Houses. Dumbledore had announced the hiring twice last week and the Daily Prophet had run a scathing expose on how outdated the school was for having only a single, either male or female, Head of House. 

"Oh, how two faced can you get?!" 

Ron and Harry stopped talking Quiditch when Hermione angrily threw down her newly arrived copy of the Daily Prophet.

"What's up Mione," Ron asked.

"Just this," she angrily picked up her copy of the Daily Prophet and read from the front page,

~~~Hogwarts Is At The Head Of The Class~~~

"And that's just the headline!" Hermione read on,

~~~Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has proved once again that he is on the cutting edge when it comes to these modern times. While most schools are still trying to figure out what gender equality even means he has lead the way with the appointment of male and female Heads of House. Now the House that you attended school in is even better! Witches, do you remember those –things- you couldn't bear to speak with your male Head of House about? And my Wizard readers I'm sure had to seek other sources of information because of the awkwardness in speaking to a Witch, even if she was your Head of House. Am I right? I know I am.~~~

"It goes on and on about how smart the Headmaster is, one guess as to who wrote it." She slapped the paper down in front of Harry and, with a smug smile, pointed to Rita Skeeter's name in the byline.

"Hey," Ron leaned over Harry's shoulder to read more. "Wasn't she trashing him last week? I thought you taught her a lesson about this kind of thing." 

"I guess she forgot," Harry shrugged and moved the paper so he could eat his breakfast.

A rather dusty and unpleasant looking owl dropped a small package in the center of Neville's plate. The boy tried valiantly not to blush as he thought over the long list of embarrassing articles that his grandmother could have sent in such an innocuous looking little box. The owl snapped up the bit of sausage he offered and flew away, still in a bad mood.

"Hey, what'd you get Neville?" Aidan asked, while stuffing his mouth with too much waffle.

"Uh, just something from my grandmother," he slowly unwrapped it and was absolutely floored to find none of his fears validated.

"Looks like one of those new Remembralls," Aidan observed, then promptly lost interest in whatever Neville had forgotten, there was food to be eaten and it was cooling off.

Chapter Fifty:

Neville was trying to catch his breath. A, mostly red, note in his new Remembrall had informed him that he had forgotten his Potions essay. Running up to Gryffindor Tower and then down to Potions as fast as he could, he had made it just in time. The classroom door banged open, banging doors open was something Neville had only seen Professor Snape do, and sure enough Professor Snape swept in. Neville nearly cried out when Snape swept in a moment later as well. _'A nightmare, this is a nightmare and I must still be asleep.'_ was his first fevered thought, before he recognized his mistake.

Many of the other students were momentarily uncertain as well. The close resemblance between their Potions Master and their new Potions Master's Assistant was uncanny. They even had the same superior tilt to their heads. After the initial shock though, it was easy to see that the one on the right was a woman. Her figure was on the subtle side and the unflattering robes tended to mute her curves even more. Her cheekbones and jaw line were more delicate than his, but on the whole she really did look like, just a female version of Snape.

Snape spoke first, "Miss- Moody will be functioning as a Potion Master's Assistant. Can anyone tell me exactly what that means?" He tried to ignore his slight hesitation over her last name and Granger's lone hand, waving like a parade flag. "Anyone at all?"

Miss Moody as she had asked to be called, was silently watching things unfold. _'Ignore the eager Gryffindor. Right got that one down.'_

* _Now there are only another half million rules of conduct left,_* her inner voice laughed.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy." He could practically hear her absorbing every cue he sent. Favor our House, snub the others. Malfoy is a Golden Boy, belittle Granger whenever possible.

Draco sat up a little straighter, "The title Potion Master's Assistant is usually applied to a newly certified Potion Master. It also refers to a Potion Master who is working on someone else's project and will be given a secondary-authorship recognition if anything is published or patented."

Hermione lowered her hand with an air of resignation. The new Professor hadn't even glanced her way.

"Five points to Slytherin," Snape smirked with approval, then addressed his new assistant. "You have familiarized yourself with the syllabus and student roster for each of the classes?"

She allowed one corner of her mouth to rise slightly, "Of course…" there had to be more to it than that, she seemed to be saying.

Snape merely nodded, "Then we will not waist time with introductions." 

It didn't take Moody long to figure out who needed extra attention. She focused on Neville and a few other slightly less accident prone students, freeing Snape up to stalk the classroom and keep Potter and Weasley from starting something with Crabbe and Goyle.

~

At lunch Ron was warning/moaning to Aidan about the horrors that awaited him in his next Potions class.

"Just be glad you don't have to look forward to Advanced Potions Theory Ron," Neville said into his soup, quietly enough that no one heard. 

~

Snape had gone to sleep a few hours ago and so he cautiously crept from his cage. Other than the papers that needed grading there wasn't much to do all night. _'Maybe I'll go for a swim, I haven't been for a while. Or I could go up and see if the Headmaster is still awake, maybe play a game or two of chess.' _Tentative plans for the evening were interrupted when a door that he had never even touched, slowly opened. Looking up from the students' scrolls he half-smiled, "Hello."

His quiet greeting calmed her fear that she had somehow intruded. "I think I saw you, at lunch," She took a step into the room and closed the door behind.

"I was there for a little, mostly to get a better look at you," he admitted, without a hint of shyness.

A few steps closer to the table he was working at, she looked around hesitantly, "Am I right in thinking that they share a sitting room?"

"Yes," he picked up the quill again and dipped it in the red ink. "I can show you around if you like, after we get these graded."

With a soft sound that stood for a laugh she pulled over the room's only other chair. Picking up the next scroll that needed grading, and a quill, she started to read.

~

"And lastly," he led the way down the hidden passage to Lupin's door. "The resident Were Wolf and escaped convict. You can use the chime, but I don't recommend it." He rapped on the **wall** and waited. "This bugs the heck out of them, and I never get tired of the annoyed look Lupin has when he answers the door," he whispered.

When Remus opened his door he found one and a half pairs of blue eyes staring at him.

"During the day Black usually stays in his rooms, in the evening he can usually be found here and before breakfast he usually stops in to request some books from the library." He waited until Lupin had taken in as much of the situation as he could, then turned to the female at his right, "Got all that?"

"I think so," her tone said it had been child's play to memorize the layout of the dungeons. It had taken a long time, in fact all night, but had not taken a lot of effort. The dungeons were even more changeable than the aboveground portion of the castle so it wasn't a matter of memorizing corridors so much as getting a feeling for the patterns of change.

Lupin blinked again, "Sirius, There are two of them now," he called without breaking his uncomprehending stare.


	26. Seeing Double

****

Hope was caught in the hall after curfew (translation: she didn't review in, like… forever!**) But because of extenuating circumstance (**submitting huge and thoughtful reviews**) I have decided to award fifty house points to Slytherin for being such an insightful and thorough reviewer.**

Chapter Fifty-one:

"Sweet Merlin's ghost," Sirius couldn't make any more sense of it than Remus. "Two- Remus there are two of them."

Three cold blue eyes faced four deeply confused eyes and no one spoke.

Heavy footsteps coming down the stairs at a good clip drew their attention to the end of the side passage, "Hagrid," he forgot about Lupin and Black, darting forward to intercept the half-Giant.

She matched his stride keeping two steps back and to the right just enough to see over his shoulder.

Remus had caught the faint question in his voice. "Sirius," he whispered, "Get Harry's cloak." Grabbing his own cloak he ran to catch up with them, breakfast was forgotten. "Hagrid down here, why?"

"Sev'rus!" The deeply thundering voice of the school's half-Giant gamekeeper had a taint of fear around the edges. "Profes'r Sna-"

"What precisely is it that you so urgently need, this early in the morning." 

Hagrid was in the middle of storming the Potions classroom and the cruelly sharp demand for an explanation caught him off guard. He clumsily tried to turn around in the slightly too small door frame and whacked his head, "Oof. Profes'r Snape,"

"Yes we've established that much already," he turned the sarcasm up a little and added a touch of contempt.

Hagrid glanced over and noticed Miss Moody, "Yer booth 'ere, it'll save on the runnin'." He turned to address 'Snape' "Profes'r Dumbledore sen' me tah get yeh- 'e said it were business, an' that yeh should bring yer toys an' put on the blinders fer the booth of yeh. I dunno what 'e meant." He faced 'Miss Moody' "Alastor Moody said yeh where suppos' tah get dressed too an' git yer art supplies. They're both waitin' fer yeh in the forest."

They took off running down the hall toward where Lupin was pretty sure Snape's quarters were located. "Hagrid," Remus actually looked at him for the first time and felt a pricking on the back of his neck. Hagrid was sweating and panting from his effort to deliver Albus' message quickly, and he was pale and trembling slightly. Remus also smelled fear, "Do you know what it's about?" _'What would Hagrid fear in the Forbidden Forest? Why would the Headmaster choose to send him rather than a messenger charm?'_ Hagrid only puffed and panted trying to catch his breath.

"Fenny!" 

Hearing the male voice echoing out toward him, it struck Lupin, _'He really does sound quite a lot like Snape.'_ His heightened senses enabled him to see the two approaching figures before Hagrid could. In spite of the eternally murky twilight of the dungeons Remus could see that they were both wearing Garom uniforms underneath half buttoned robes, and carrying large-ish, old fashioned, black, doctor's bags. By the time they were close enough that Hagrid could see them clearly, they had finished putting on their robes.

He didn't slow down and the classroom door flung itself out of the way as he rushed to the real Snape's office. He called again, louder, "**Fenny**!"

"Yessir," squeaked a familiar, frantic, House-Elf. She had used the special magic inherent to her kind to appear from thin air.

"Fenny, get the chum-buckets set up and have the boys ready for a loller. We're back on the front."

"Oh, no sir! Oh, yes sir." Fenny darted off and disappeared again.

"You ever use any slacker?" he asked while sitting down at the real Snape's desk and reaching into a drawer.

She shook her head, "Neg." 

He glanced toward the door where she stood uncertainly, "Come over here." He cinched the tourniquet tighter on his forearm and exposed his wrist.

"Aye," she watched as he filled a syringe with something from an unlabeled bottle. She did not like the way things were going.

In and out, the injection took seconds, "Put your arm on the desk here." He moved so she could take the seat. "Are you a carrier?" 

Remus partially entered the room and watched. _'It's crazy, the two of them having complete Garom uniforms, Skinlettes gloves and all! Maybe Sirius was right. Albus obviously knows more than he's told us, and now old Mad-eye is in on it too?'_

She was getting nervous, sending off too many tracer vibes, "Are you a carrier," he asked again, a little more forcefully. 

She took a breath and it rushed out, "Aye." 

"Good," he refilled the syringe. "I only have the one needle here and I wouldn't want to infect you." Holding the dirty needle in his teeth as he tied the rag around her forearm. "This is gonna burn a little," he murmured, placing his gloved palm over hers. The needle poised to enter a vein in her wrist.

She closed her eyes, "Pull," she said, and closed her fingers around his hand. There was a sharp pain in her wrist. Her first instinct was to yank her arm back, but she couldn't because he had pinned her hand against the desk. The sharp pain became a hot burning sensation that slowly flowed along her arm then faded away before reaching the crook of her elbow. 

He withdrew the needle and set it aside, Fenny would clean up the mess. "The Vacuum, you'll feel it soon, never gets better. The only thing you can do about it is keep moving. They sent for us, we must go." 

Opening her eyes and getting to her feet, she staggered and nearly fell. The Vacuum hit hard. Suddenly and totally alone, suffocated by nothingness, and unable to even feel the presence of The Other, she gasped for air. For the first time ever there was no hand to guide her, no will to follow, not even the familiar distant hostility that she had always known. **They sent for us**, his words pulled her along, a lifeline, something to obey, even if it were nothing more than a third-person, twice relayed, command.

He watched her knuckles go white as she gripped the handle of her bag. _'She'll make it… I wonder why I care though...'_ He nodded to Hagrid when they were back in the hall and the entire procession headed up the stairs and out the front doors.

Giants tend to be rather clumsy and Hagrid was not immune to that particular shortcoming. Giants are also rather fast runners and posses a fair amount of stamina, and Hagrid was lucky enough to have inherited both traits. Running toward the Forbidden Forest the slowest member of the group was Sirius Black, and he wasn't supposed to be there. All in all it took a surprisingly short amount of time to get to the spot where the Headmaster was waiting.

"Thank you Rubeus," Albus Dumbledore patted the shoulder of the exhausted man. "Now, please return to the school and assist Filch with his rounds."

Hagrid nodded his bushy head and left the small clearing at a slow trot. They waited until he was out of sight.

Once Hagrid was gone he pulled the black bandanna up, causing his hair to spike a little on top. His right eye had healed enough to open most of the way but the skin around it was an ugly purplely grey still. "Where's the slop?" his voice was dead his face a mask. This was business.

Taking another cue from him she cleared her face of all emotion, including panic, and relaxed the death grip hold on the bag at her side. "What about Black, is he cleared?" her voice was steady and cold.

"He's a member of the Order," 'Snape' answered for Albus, "So're Lupin and Hagrid for that matter."

Sirius' heart dropped, he did the only thing he could and, taking off Harry's invisibility cloak, he stepped out of the bushes. "Sir," he addressed the Headmaster with his eyes lowered to the leaf strewn earth.

"Sirius, Remus," Albus sounded stern, an unusual tone for him. "It would be foolish to send you back if you can be of help." He turned to address the two imitation professors, "The bodies were discovered by the Centaurs nearly a half-hour ag-." He was about to say more but changed his mind. He instead drew his wand, whispered a Lumos, and led the way into the forest.

Chapter Fifty-two:

They met up with Alastor Moody at the edge of another, larger, clearing rather deep in the forest. The thickly grown bushes allowed only an impression of a glade and a small splash of dawn-bright sky.

"You do remember that I don't like the sun," he groused while stripping off his cloak and potions robe. "So can I just get to work now?" his eyes flared bright and his pupils slitted.

Albus shook his head, "No, we need to talk first," and continued to watch as Alastor spoke with Severa.

"You wanted me here but I have to wait?" She flung her robe down, "I brought my bag. Am I just carrying it for the exercise?" 

"No," Alastor sighed, "It's just that we need to get a few things sorted out first."

"Severus, Severa," Albus took another breath. _'This is it, the first step forward. I hope the conditioning holds.'_ "You are to work together on this. Severa, you have been brought here so that you could function more efficiently, as a team."

"Why would you want two baggers?" the glow from his eyes caused a glare on Albus' glasses.

She looked over, her own eyes aflame, "I don't bag 'em, I tag 'em."

"Oh," he glanced at her then back to Dumbledore, "If that's all? Then I need to get started."

Remus, Sirius, Albus, and Alastor followed at a distance as the two silently entered the clearing. The ambient light of dawn illuminated a grisly scene. Twisting in the slight breeze, like macabre windsocks, were two corpses. Hanging from a large oak, they nearly touched the muddy ground with their lifeless feet. He was examining the bodies, she the earth and foliage nearby. The setting moon glinted off the buckles on their harnesses and the torn Elvish-grey clothes and lead colored skinlettes underneath, blended with the early morning fog. 

It wasn't bright enough yet for Sirius to see what it was, but something was wrong. "I can't make out the faces of the two bodies, Remus, can you?"

This was one of those times when Lupin really wished he couldn't see or hear or smell things that full humans couldn't. "It's not mud," he whispered, "it's their blood. I can't see their faces either." He turned walked several steps away and, leaning his weight against a tree, tried hard not to throw up.

"Remus?" Black placed a hand on his shoulder and felt the tension in the muscles there. "Remus, are you alright? What did you see?"

With a forced laugh Remus raised his amber eyes to meet Sirius', "I asked him that same question, you remember what he said?" Remus took several slow deep breaths and was thankful that the wind was blowing the scent away from him. "I think I understand it now. He said all of that stuff, about the woman who was abusing her kid, and the couple that was going to breakup. There was no emotion in his voice he looked like he was going to fall asleep."

"He said it was because he was taking in too much information," Sirius cautiously reminded him. 

"Look at him now. Watch both of them," Remus shook his head. "They don't feel anything right now, I don't think they're even thinking. They're just taking in information. They've been trained for this, or programmed. You can't see the faces because they don't have any. I hope it was done after they died, but I bet it was before, Sirius their skin was pealed off."

"What- If- I mean shouldn't the Ministry be informed? We need an investigation or something," Sirius was still holding Remus' shoulder, but he was talking to Albus and Alastor.

"That would be why we sent for them," Albus indicated the two Garoms. "When Voldemort resurfaced we decided that it was time to gather some of the senior members of The Order together, yourselves included. During the war they worked separately on the same projects, he determines what spells were used to kill the individual, and she is able to do facial reconstructions to make a positive identification."

He was absorbing every detail of the crime scene as it related to the bodies. In the back of his mind he was aware that the female was looking at the clearing, searching for and collecting small things. Distantly he was aware of what Albus was saying to the others. _'Knowing what curses were used isn't enough, of course they needed to identify the bodies. So, she's the other half of the team.'_

Twenty minutes later they were nearly done. A troop of House-Elves had appeared and was waiting, with two gurneys, to take the bodies away.

He climbed the oak tree and slunk out onto the limb the bodies hung from, "Do you want to get a look at the faces before I cut them down?" 

She was untangling a strand of pale blonde hair from a low bush that had been trampled, probably while they were being tortured. The offer to look at the faces caught her off guard, "Well- how's the cartilage?" The hair fiber came loose and as she sealed it inside of a small vial, she looked up to find the male laying full length along the top of the branch with his forearms crossed and his head resting on top. 

He waited, she tilted her head to one side and he did the same, without lifting his head from his arms he said, "It seems to be intact."

She put the vial, with the single hair, into her bag and stood before the bodies focusing on first one then the other. 

Sirius had started watching them when they began talking to each other. The sun was high enough now that he could see a little too clearly. The male drew a blade from somewhere and held it so that it nearly touched the rope holding the body furthest from him.

The House-elves didn't step into the clearing until the female had put away her things and declared that she was done. Remus and Sirius were conscripted to catch the bodies as they were cut down and then to lay them on the gurneys. Then the House Elves jumped in, setting up the gurneys and arranging themselves into some sort of order, so that they could carry the bodies back to the lab. At least that's where Sirius assumed they were going. Sirius was right. Remus was sick.

~

Three days later he was done with the autopsies and she had finished three-dimensional models of what the two had looked like. She assured everyone, that she was not mistaken. 

Wednesday evening they were presenting their findings to a small group assembled in Albus' study. Lupin and Black were present mostly because they had been there during the initial examinations of the bodies and crime scene. Albus and Alastor where there for many reasons, one of which was that this attack would have heavy and dangerous implications for the school and The Order.

Alastor asked again, even though he did not doubt her, and she knew it, "Are you sure that there is no chance that you got something wrong?"

"Of course there is a **chance**. If there wasn't a chance this meeting would not need to happen." She rolled her twilight-blue eyes and moved to curl up in the hard wingback chair that she had chosen. Her gaze suddenly shifted to Dumbledore, "You recognize them, that's why you're having trouble."

"They are Ministry agents that were watching the school," Albus admitted. "I would prefer that they were Muggles who had been attacked as a matter of form. It seems that there is a deeper meaning involved."

With a dry chuckle he entered the conversation, "Oh, really? A deeper meaning, you don't say… couldn't be tied in anyway to the spot they were left, could it?" He was in his favorite seat as far from the fire as he could get, and still be in the room. 

He was now sharing that corner with her, but as far as Albus and Alastor could tell, neither minded. Some care had gone into placing another chair in that reserved space and in the end they had decided to just see what would happen.

"What is special about that clearing," Albus asked with stressed patients, but glancing back he saw that the bright blue eyes that had been visible before, were now closed. _'So, he's done talking for the moment. Give him time and he might be able to rejoin the conversation, or he might just leave_._'_

"Neither of them are any good when it comes to conversation," Alastor remarked, mostly to Sirius and Remus. "I think what he's getting at is the boundary line." Several blank looks and a scoffing laugh from the back of the room prompted him to explain further. "The boundary line around Hogwarts, the protective shielding that prevents apparation and several other things from happening on the school grounds is not a perfect circle-"

A lazy, female voice found it's way out of the depths of one of the shadow enshrouded chairs, "It isn't a square or any other regular shape for that matter."

"And so," Alastor continued, "The barrier is closer to the school in some places than it is in others. The east side of that clearing, or two or three steps into the woods there, is the point closest to the school where you could apparate to."

"Sounds like Deatheaters to me," Sirius growled, "and they took out the agents that were watching the school."

He knew what would come next, and the thought that The Other had been involved was not a pleasant one. "He did not know that the attack had been ordered," he spoke with certainty, "But he knew something about it. He is waiting for his next summons, and he will bring her with him." His eyes became brighter and nearly illuminated the whole corner, "He needs her and I can not stop him because I need him. I told you to kill him and it is fast becoming too late!"


	27. Twisting

I have heard that there are 'lurkers' from other Houses here… I may be a Slytherin, but I am not above flattery or bribes. –was that redundant?- I promise to **only** take away House points for flames. And as I am feeling generous –not desperate, I said generous- I will award points to **any House** that a good little reviewer claims they belong to- the same number per review regardless of House. Ok? 

For a disclaimer read the one on chapter… fifteen.

Chapter Fifty-three:

Snape and Miss Moody seemed to take turns teaching through the beginning of the week. After Wednesday though they were both present. Friday the blue eyed Professor Snape assisted in Magical Self-defense by demonstrating several wandless methods of disarming an opponent. 

Alastor Moody was fastening his robe and waiting for the students to fight their own ways out into the hall. He walked toward Remus Lupin and noticed that the younger man was watching two retreating figures rather intently. "Oh," he said recognizing them instantly, "So she made it after all."

The two passed from sight and Remus faced Moody, "You were expecting her to come, why?"

Alastor closed to top clasp on his robe and regarded Lupin for a moment, "Curiosity. She recognizes that they are the same and different and she is wondering why they are being allowed to interact. Severa is quiet, once she acclimates to the school she will begin to test the limits again." 

Remus was the last to leave the room and he closed the door on his way out, "What is the status of Sirius' appeal? Will he be heard?"

"They will hear him," Alastor said, heading for his chambers, "They are required to hear all testimony given by a Witness and Witness testimony is given priority over other cases. When it comes to retrial, I don't expect even Fudge could manage to do anything to counter the testimony of a Witness. Sirius is, at the most, I would say, two weeks from being acquitted."

~

Dinner was nearly over; not that Snape had eaten all that much. When he pushed back his chair and stood he was a little surprised that Miss Moody did the same. _'Damn you, old man. You stole the only thing that I ever valued and now that I have her back she doesn't even know me.' _His frustrated bitterness flowed like ground fog around his ankles as he nodded to the Headmaster and left the Great Hall, Severa Moody two steps behind and a half step to his right.

As they descended the dungeon stairs she spoke, "They say you are a Deatheater."

He slowed, and turned she continued to descend until she was two steps above where he stood. His uncovered left eye flicked back and forth as he tried to read her eyes. _'She's tall. Maybe, all of five centimeters shorter than me,'_ the irrelevant thought echoed through his mind as he saw the wisps of black in the whites of her eyes. He slowly lifted his left arm. At his touch the row of tiny buttons at the cuff of his frock coat undid themselves and he pushed back the layers that covered his arm.

Severa Moody had never actually seen a Darkmark, but being raised by Alastor Moody meant that she could spot one with her eyes shut. The pale scar on his pale arm was not the classical –active- Darkmark, a black line drawing of a death's-head with a snake for the tongue that everyone knew. It was the Darkmark that only an Auror would recognize, an –inactive- link to Voldemort himself. Shaking her head slightly, "All that proves," she said stepping around him and continuing down, "is that you are not being watched right now."

Snape found himself following two steps back and a little to the right, "That is one of the first lies that I learned the truth of. I am watched at all times. Sometimes he is more aware than others… but he is always there." 

With a scowl that jerked at his heart it was so Moody she headed for her rooms, "The Dark Lord is not known for his honesty."

He reached around her and placed his hand on the door that led from their sitting room to her private chambers and held it closed, "I was not talking about Lord Voldemort."

__

'What is he doing,' she could feel The Other beginning to panic at his closeness. _*I'm pinned against the door. I don't care what he is doing! Get away from him!* _

"You know what I am speaking of, and you know it was not Voldemort" he spoke softly, "The Male is always watching me, just as The Female is always watching you."

"What do you know of…" there was no way to deny it and nothing to be gained by rejecting the offer. And he was offering her something, _'An alliance? Could I free myself with his-'_

*What are you doing? He serves the Enemy, you should turn him in.*

Snape took one step back and let his hand fall from the door to his side, "I can help you and you can help me. But first you need to know the truth."

"How?" she turned as she asked him, and saw the answer in every aspect of his face, "How do I know you?"

For the second time in his life, and that night, he felt his heart get yanked out of its place. This time though it was a sort of cancerous hope that he had harbored for nearly twenty years that did the tugging. The hope that he could undo what had been done… and make them pay for their idiocy. "Come with me. Don't ask. Don't think. Just come when I go." 

Miss Severa Moody closed herself inside her rooms and tried not to seriously think about what she almost knew and what Snape seemed to be offering. Snape dragged himself to his bed and succumbed to asleep during the fifth round of second-guessing his own actions. 

~

Walking in to breakfast Monday morning Albus signaled Alastor to wait a moment before entering. The retired Auror gave a nearly imperceptible nod and they met again in an unused classroom not far away. 

"Severus didn't come in Sunday night to play our usual game of chess." Albus did not sit in one of the discarded chairs and so neither did Alastor.

"Related to that outburst Wednesday night?" Moody asked.

"This morning Miss Moody came to my office and asked to have her proper title instead of being referred to as though she were an inferrior. She suggested that as you are technically not teaching a class you could be addressed as Mister Moody and she as Professor Moody. I am not looking forward to making this announcement."

"That's it then," for all his bravado Alastor couldn't compose himself enough to hide his feelings from his best friend. "She has made her choice and now we are just racing the clock." As they were exiting the former Muggle History classroom he swore rather violently under his breath. Albus slanted him a reproving look, "sorry," he mumbled.

"I can not condone your choice of words," Albus murmured in response as they entered the Great Hall, "but I heartily agree with the sentiment."

No one gave too much thought to the Headmaster's announcement of the change in title of address for the two faculty members in question. What they called the co-head of Slytherin or Huffelpuff really didn't affect them all that much. There were six who were deeply affected by the implications that the change in title held, two did not appear to be present, two for health reasons probably should not have been present, and Albus and Alastor would have done anything to undo what they knew had been done.

~

"Mis- Professor Moody?" Hermione caught herself and tried again to get the attention of the distracted woman.

Coming back to the here and now she acknowledged the annoying little Gryffindor and suffered through a too long question that was worded with a far too superior an air. "Perhaps if you were in an accelerated program, Miss Granger, you would not feel so confined by the ineptitude of your fellow students. You are, sadly, not in such a program and will there for have to suffer through the Fifth Year curriculum before everyone is able to grasp the mutability of inactive ingredient substitution." 

Neville nearly dropped his stirring ladle in the cauldron full of nearly botched Weight-reducer Potion, _'Hermione is rather bossy sometimes, and she tends to take over my half of our work. But she doesn't do it because she thinks she is better than me,' _he thought with some indignation. _'She does it because she thinks I need protecting, from myself,' _he added with a slight knock at his own ability, he knew he wasn't the class ace.

"Mister Longbottom," Snape called.

Neville had been so focused on one of the professors that he had forgotten the other. _'A big mistake there. They cover for each other better than Filch and Mrs. Norris.'_

"Mister Longbottom, what have you done?" Snape asked, with an evil mirth. He was setting Neville up. Giving the palely glowing brew a few slow stirs, with an almost experimental caution. He opened his mouth to inform the class that what had actually been created was a form of luminescent paint that was most commonly used to accent nurseries, when his Assistant rather abruptly stepped into the hall and made for her rooms. 

Neville and Hermione had gotten the desk furthest to the front left corner of the class; it was also the desk closest to the door. When Snape's head snapped up and he watched Professor Moody exit Hermione was double checking her notes. Neville though had been waiting for the cutting remarks to begin and so was watching Snape's face. He wasn't sure, but he would have sworn that he saw concern dart across Snape's face, _'He almost looks afraid,'_ Neville thought. But then the glimmer was gone and Snape was his usual venomous self, for the rest of the period.

Chapter Fifty-four:

When the next Potions class started and she didn't show up, Snape began to worry, _'This is foolish, It will protect her, It must.'_

*I must protect you as well...* whispered The Other in his head. *_Or I can be anything you want me to be…*_

The door opened and Professor Severa Moody walked in as though nothing was odd about an instructor missing half of a class. _'I didn't eat enough breakfast to throw up that much,'_ she gritted her teeth and choked back the lingering dry heaves. Suddenly aware that there was someone behind her, she pivoted and managed to nearly plow into Professor Snape's chest.

He only raised his left brow into a questioning arch, but he could see that she knew what he meant. _'I don't need you any more,'_ he stabbed at the link they shared and found some pleasure in the pain that radiated back to him like an echo. _'Together we need no one. We never did and we won't again.'_

~

"She took his mark," she said slipping noiselessly into the sitting room. "Why, couldn't I influence her enough to stop her?"

He had pushed the scarf down this time and it hung around his neck. "He ran into a dead end so I decided to give it a try," he put down the translation he was working out. "He has never been as good at ancient Phoenician as me." He got up and grabbed a cloak from the rack by the door, "I can tell him what it means," he shrugged, "but that doesn't mean he will listen. Are you suited up?" he changed the subject.

"Flog me," she flopped into the chair he had vacated and began to look over his work. The light suddenly disappeared and didn't come back until she was able to untangle herself from the folds of the cloak he had thrown over her. She huffed at the straggly bits of hair that had fallen into her eyes.

"Fine, go see if Black and Lupin are interested in seeing the lake," he nudged her out of the chair. "I'll finish this," he snatched back the document, "and get my stuff on and meet you on the way."

~

Remus rolled his eyes as he opened his door, "Why can't you use the chime?" he sighed, before realizing that he was addressing the female.

"He wants to know if you and Black are interested in seeing the lake," she shook the hair from her eyes with a practiced toss of her head. "Black isn't here," she observed when Remus didn't respond. "Where is he?"

"How do you know Sirius isn't here?" Remus asked abruptly.

"He told me Black was usually here in the evenings," she placed a hand on one jutting hip. "I thought I'd check here first, but his scent is over eight hours old, Black ate lunch with you but then left when you went back to your classes."

"**He** who?" Lupin caught the mention and tried to drive the conversation that way.

Her brow furrowed and her eyes dimmed the pupils waxing round, "He is the other. Well," she waved her free hand in a dismissive gesture, "he's the Other, Other but that's not going to mean anything to you. It doesn't mean much to me, yet."

__

'The Other, Other?' "Sirius is probably in his room." Lupin stepped into the hall when it was obvious that she was not going to check on her own, "I'll see if he hasn't run off somewhere."

As it happened Sirius had already gone out and chased Mrs. Norris up and down the halls, to work off some of his boredom. He latched onto the prospect of getting to go outside, and maybe swimming in the lake, as though it were the Quiditch World Cup. After transfiguring a pair of swim trunks for himself and Lupin he grabbed a warm cloak Dumbledore had given him, it was a bit chilly with Autumn setting in.

She was waiting where she had been left; it served no purpose to invite them only to loose them in the halls. "If you're ready now," she raised a soot-black brow and swept down the hall ahead of them.

"Hey," Sirius called, "I thought we were going to the lake." They were heading further into the dungeons. Even though there were many secret passages in this portion of the school, the most direct rout to the lake was through the Main Hall and out the double doors.

"Smeagol Lake," the bright eyes of the male suddenly flashed into being further up the passage. He explained, "I named it myself," before Black could say he had never heard of Smeagol Lake. Waiting for the small queue to pass he took up the position of rearguard. 

Smeagol Lake turned out to be a fair sized subterranean body of water in the middle of a large room that had a definite cave-like feeling, and a small rock island in the center. The walls of the cave/chamber were patchily covered with glowing slime. The pale yellow and blue were obviously different types of algae, but they lived mixed together and the surface of the water reflected their light patterns.

"Anything living in the water?" Sirius asked, attempting to decide if a swim were still worth trying.

"Nothing that's interested in you," the female gave Black a look that made him think she was questioning his manhood. Letting her robe and cloak drop to the floor she took two quick steps to the edge and dove into the black water in her full Garom uniform. Her eyes illuminated the underwater world and she explored the various nooks and boulders for several minutes, coming up for air less frequently than Black and Lupin were comfortable with.

"The problem is," Sirius muttered as she took a breath and went under again, "she looks so Human and acts so Human, I keep forgetting she's a Garom."

"The word Garom comes from the ancient Atlantean word picture that was meant to convey the idea of a square based pyramid." 

Remus was sounding rather upset but Sirius was at a loss as to why. He stupidly shook his head 

Lupin continued, "Four thousand years ago a Muggle army conquered a peaceful land where the inhabitants had god-like power. The Muggles saw at once how useful such power could be, if made to serve them. The ones that were bred with Muggles were the first Wizards the others were force bred with Weres and Sidhe and others. The Garoms started off human, and until they were wiped out in the fifteen hundreds they were still able to have fertile Magic baring offspring when mated to a Wizard," Remus told him.

"Hey," Sirius held his hands up defensively, "I'm not saying they're Creatures, just that they're Exotics at best."

"You are such a stupid prat sometimes," Remus snarled.

"What?" Sirius mouthed as Remus pushed past him to place his cloak and robe on a large rock that didn't have too much of the luminescent algae.

"My best friend was bitten by a Vamp almost a thousand years ago," the male said from a nearby rocky ledge he had been laying on. He didn't open his eyes or stir at all, there was nothing to betray his presence except his voice. "He had been a rather powerful Medi-Wizard, with a small family scandal about his great-grandmother having had an affair with a satyr. When he crossed-over he became a freak an outcast and an Exotic. Lupin, he's right, you are being stupid… he's only half Human as it is." 

"Aren't you going in the water?" Sirius was venting frustration on an uncaring ear, and he knew it.

"I'm letting her get a lock on the place," he stretched and jumped to the floor. "Sometimes you need to find a safe place to hide before you can figure things out." He stripped down to his Garom uniform and lay his clothes beside the female's. Dilating his pupils so that the man before him wouldn't need to squint, he stared hard into Sirius' brown eyes, "This place is safe. I hope you never need it. If you do, she will protect you," he turned and started for the water.

"She? The female you mean, why would I need her protection?" Sirius questioned, not without a little macho disbelief.

He looked back over his shoulder as his eyes regained their inhuman light, "Not her," he waved a hand at the water. "**Her**, she will protect you here," his hand swung out to include the very walls and stones of the room, and the entire castle around them. "This chamber is near her heart."

Sirius could think of anything to say before the male dove under the surface of the water. He felt a hand clamp onto his heart and squeeze the blood from it, _'Remus is only half Human, and I was trashing him…_ _I wasn't thinking. I didn't-' _he gritted his teeth. _'Harry and Remus are all I have left. I have to keep them.'_ He went in search of his best friend, praying Remus would accept his apology.

~

Laughter, a sound almost never heard in the corridors of the dungeons, bounced back to the four sopping wet figures as they made their way back to more familiar territory.

"Ok-ok-ok," Remus wiped his eyes to clear the tears, "so you had a nightmare about being chased by the carts at Gringots, and you were afraid of Goblins for a whole year?!" he was laughing so hard he needed to lean against the wall.

Sirius was trying to look offended, he was just glad that Remus had accepted his apology, "Yah well you were afraid of the Bloody Baron!" 

"Nearly everyone is," the male smirked as he continued down the hall.

Sirius shot him a nearly withering look, "And what were you afraid of as a child?"

He stopped walking and became thoughtful, "The hall your rooms are on," he was hardly more than breathing the words and Sirius and Remus sobered. "Second Year, he did something- well he let the other Slytherins do something, and James… I think he was trying to sneak into the Potion Master's storeroom and he caught them and scared them off. He never forgave James for saving me."

"What did they do?" Remus asked with hardly any more volume than the tale had been given.

"They locked me in a dark room and-" he hesitated a fraction of a second, "wouldn't let me out." He gave a halfhearted grin and chuckle, "I was eight years old and afraid of the dark." 

Sirius and Remus made it to their beds before midnight. 

~

"**Oh my god!**" Remus jerked upright and suddenly awake at one am, "He was seven years old when he first came here!"


	28. Red

Some is mine and some is J. K. R.'s and some I skieffed from other places. If you want a better disclaimer check out the one for chapter seven.

Now I said I would award Points and here is where things stood when I posted this chapter:

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Gryffindor-20 Points- FrogFoot24 received 10 Points for enthusiastic participation in cleaning up Neville's latest mess: CapriceAnn is awarded 10 Points for actually showing up for class this time

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Slytherin-40 Points- Sunna received 10 Points for paying attention in class (she remembered the earlier references to age from chapter 3); RivanKnight is awarded 10 Points for, shall we say, House loyalty…(see author note on chapter 21 for an example); Hope is awarded 10 Points for creative use of friendship in order to get what she wanted; Jemini receives 10 Points for correctly identifying Mister Longbottom's latest mess, and then properly brewing the counter agent

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Ravenclaw- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Huffelpuff- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter (I'm sick of those big numbers when these are just sub-chapters. This is just the beginning of the latest bit…enjoy!)

Friday morning was not going well. The early morning was usually the worst time of day for Professor Snape. Lately the mornings had been worse than ever. Not eating enough and trying to cover his teaching position and be a good little Death Eater was getting harder to do. And now, in the middle of first period Potions he was trying not to give in to the migraine that was trying to make him give in.

"Sir," Hermione called as she raised her hand, "it smells a lot like the gas, Nitrous Oxide, my parents used to use in their Muggle dental office." She was hoping to be helpful, but she also knew it would not be taken that way.

Snape was holding the bridge of his nose and squinting his eyes shut, Moody stepped in, as she was expected to, "Miss Granger," (she had the soft but deadly tone down as far as the student body were concerned.) "When I need you to identify a form of anesthesia I will ask for your, no doubt, superior opinion on the matter."

Ron was trying to not pass-out because of the vapors coming from his cauldron. He was totally baffled as to what had gone wrong with his first independent project. Frantically the red-faced boy was double-checking his notes and the ingredients he had gathered and prepared. About to consult his textbook Ron caught a glimpse of the Slytherin at the next table over, Sunna Clausen. She was going red in the face trying to muffle her laughter while stirring her cauldron of perfectly normal Flu-be-gone.

Professor Snape did not even raise his eyes as he spoke to the girl, "Miss Clausen, are you well?" 

Her dark hair was cut in a pixyish bob, but the cute effect was ruined as soon as the little gleam in her eyes became apparent. "I think it's the fumes Professor," she managed to say, after choking back on another giggle. 

"Do you feel that a trip to the Hospital Wing is in order?" Snape asked, not quite worried, but with more consideration than he would have shown a Gryffindor.

"No Sir," she shook her head, "I think I just need some fresh air."

"Very well Miss Clausen," Snape allowed with a wave of his free hand, "just make sure that you are on time to your next class. If you are not feeling better by then, do go to the Medical wing."

"Mister Weasley," professor Moody stepped in again, "Detention tonight seven o'clock-"

"But I've got Quidditch practice!" Ron gasped.

"Maybe you will focus better without that distraction," she sneered, "and that'll be ten Points from Gryffindor for interrupting a teacher."

At lunch Ron was still worked up about it, "I don't know what it was or how she did it, but Clausen must have done something to ruin my potion." He tore open a roll and slapped butter on it, "I mean I was right there the entire time!"

While Ron was chewing Hermione spoke quickly, "You know she never gets caught. Clausen is just too quick."

"And slippery," Harry added. "She stole a quill from me once and I had it tucked behind my ear!"

"Well at least she always gives back the things she takes," Hermione said in defense of the Kleptomaniac Queen, as the Slytherin in question was known. "But," Hermione added after a moment of analytical thought, "that could be just a ploy to get out of some of the trouble she's in, since she knows she's been caught."

"If you are ever missing anything," Ron advised Aidan with an upperclassman's authority, "**always** tell Sunna Clausen to give it back before you spend too much time looking. She almost always has it. No matter what it is."

~

Many of the guys and a few of the girls had left already to watch or participate in their fourth Quidditch practice of the year. Ron had joined Harry and the rest of the team as they headed out then, rather reluctantly, made his way to his detention in the dungeons.

@--'---,----------

Hermione had been working on her Advanced Muggle studies assignment, a scroll on the major effects that the industrial revolution had on the average Muggle's life and what effects were still being felt. But a small gaggle of girls were twittering over by the hearth, being just loud enough that she couldn't focus. Looking up with some frustration Hermione finally addressed them, "What in the world are all of you going on about? You should be studying for NEWTS or OWLS or **something**."

Parvatti rolled her eyes and leaned over the back of the couch she was sharing with Lavender and Susan, "It's nothing Mione," she called back in a sing-song fashion that set Hermione to thinking that it was very much something. 

"Well," Lavender added, "nothing you'd be interested in anyway."

"**Lavender**!" Ginny cried from a cushion on the floor closer to the fire. "That was so unfair."

Lavender had the grace to blush at that, "That's not what I meant. It's just that unless there's a glossary or footnotes or something, then she isn't interested." She continued to blush, leading Hermione to believe that she had missed something important.

"What-" Hermione began, with a slight scrunching of her nose.

"We're just talking about boys," Ginny said while glaring at Lavender. Then she brightened and looked eagerly toward Hermione, "Come over and join us! You've been head of your class since day one of your First Year, a few hours of fooling around and talking about the cutest guys in the school won't kill your grades." 

Reluctantly, as though she were walking into the Forbidden Forest blindfolded and under a full moon, she joined the group by the fire. 

Ginny summoned a cushion to her side and indicated that she should sit.

"Ok, who are we talking about now," Hermione asked with ever more reluctance.

"We've already talked about Harry," Susan said.

"And Blaise and Seamus," added Parvati.

"And Draco," Ginny grinned. To Hermione's scandalized look she mearly pushed back her copper colored mane and smiled, "some girls like the not-so-nice, but devastatingly-handsome ones."

After the giggles died down somewhat, Kyleah spoke up, "Which I think brings us to the soon-to-be-hotties," more giggles followed.

Ginny leaned over to Hermione and whispered a quick explanation, "Now we talk about guys we think will be hot, in like a year or two. Once they grow up a little, get some muscle and maturity."

Oh, Hermione mouthed, while silently pleading with the Heavens, _'I'm in hell! What did I do to earn this?!'_

A few Second and Third Years were mentioned and their highs and lows were given deep thought and equal time. Snacks were passed around while hair cut and current muscle build, were compared with speculations of what the guy in question could look like. When Susan mentioned Aidan Rittenhouse Hermione tried to get up, but Ginny grabbed her arm and held on until she settled back down. Someone mentioned Neville Longbottom and Hermione nearly sprayed a mouthful of pumpkin juice on Delilah, a Third Year that had the misfortune of sitting in front of her on the other side of the hearthrug.

"I told you," Lavender crowed, "unless there's a table of contents, or dates to memorize then she isn't interested."

Ginny got up from her sprawled out position on the floor and with wide eyes demanded of Hermione, "You haven't noticed?" when Hermione shook her head in confusion Ginny flopped back down. "First off he grew taller and lost weight over the summer-"

Kyleah interrupted, "He must have had dance lessons or something, cause he isn't clumsy on his feet anymore and he has some muscle, he was working out over the summer not to mention his-"

"Neville?!" Hermione found her voice at last, "Neville Longbottom?!"

~ 

Ron was exhausted. Miss Professor Moody had him make not only the Flu-be-gone Potion that Clausen had ruined for him, she also had him make a Fever Reducer Potion a Cough No-more and something that was supposed to help with nausea but smelled disgusting. As he lay on his bed he asked Harry (they still had side by side beds) how practice went.

Half-asleep Harry yawned, "Well when we got there the Slytherins already had the pitch, but they were almost done so we waited." He yawned and rubbed at his eyes to try and think a little clearer, "You should have seen them, Malfoy may not be able to find the Snitch, but their Beater Livida Sperare…"

"Yah," Ron prompted, just loud enough to wake Harry up again.

"Right," Harry stirred a little, "well she's better than last year." After a moment of rather awkward silence from Ron, Harry rose up on one elbow, "We didn't play last year. I guess I kind of forgot that…" 

Ron could see the worry on Harry's face and the darker memories that were beginning to cloud his eyes, "Hey," he sounded too chipper and he knew it, "I just had the worst detention of the year so far ya wanna hear about it?"

The second half of the Chapter:

A good solid knock at the main doors summoned Filch from his nightly rounds. He opened one of the double doors and scowled at the youngish man who stood before him, "Eh?" he grunted. 

With a flick of his wrist the pale stranger held forth a calling card, "I believe Headmaster Dumbledore is expecting me." Grey eyes behind round framed grey lensed glasses regarded the sour man for a moment then dropped to the equally tattered cat rubbing against the door frame. "Oh," he shifted the messenger bag at his side and crouched, holding a hand out to the feline, "you are a pretty one. You must be Mrs. Norris, he's told me about you."

Filch looked on jealously as his furry companion gave a rasp-like purr and pushed her head against the man's knuckles, "An' what 'uold you be expectin' at this 'ere time o' night?" Holding his arms up as though cradling a baby Filch clucked his tongue, the cat leapt up and pushed her forehead along his jaw.

"You're a very lucky man to have the loyalty of such a one as her." He stood, again at eye level with the man blocking the door, he nodded to the card that Filch now held, "My business is with the Headmaster and Alastor Moody. If you don't mind too much I would like to speak with **them** about it, not you."

Just up the hall from the Gargoyle guarded door to the Headmaster's office, Mrs. Norris jumped from Filches shoulder and trotted toward a classroom door that stood suspiciously ajar. Her lamp-like eyes glowed faintly in the dark as she cast her master a questioning look. 

"A student out and about at this hour?" he gave a very good impression of a grinning skull. "You jus' keep track of em, my sweet an' I'll be along soon as I get 'im to the 'eadmaster's." Minus one scruffy cat they made it to Dumbledore's study. Handing the calling card to Albus, Filch did not bother to lower his voice, "I don' take to 'avin' freaks runnin' about any more 'n I do students, but 'e claims yer expectin' 'im." 

Dumbledore seemed a little tense, but Filch knew he could take care of himself and headed back down the spiraling escalator to chase down whom ever had been foolish enough to catch Mrs. Norris' attention. 

Stepping back from the door Albus invited his guest to take a seat by the fire, remembering better just in time, he offered a seat on the other side of the room instead. "Doctor-" he glanced back at the card to make sure he was not mistaken, "Doctor Ignatius."

He tried to smile pleasantly, "I believe retired Auror, Alastor Moody is currently employed here… I think he would appreciate being sent for now."

The abrupt manner, Albus tried to write off as simply polite for a Vampire. The haircut and clothing he decided were personal taste, and therefor more indicative of the individual he was dealing with. _'Mullet, I think that's what they used to call that particular cut… never very popular in Wizarding circles. Dark lab-coat instead of a jacket, and Victorian sunglasses, just the sort I would expect Severus to run with.'_ "If you will excuse me a moment I will call him," he smiled and went to his desk. Using the Tele-orb he summoned Alastor.

~

"The elusive Doctor Ignatius," Alastor had not offered his hand as he entered the room and took a seat, and neither had the Vampire. "So, what do you want now?"

"Starch Ignatius," he stated. At the look Alastor gave him, he smiled, "it's only fair. I know your names, and a great deal more." Pulling several Muggle style manila-folders out of his bag, the smile went from slightly aloof to lethal, "I know what you did." He slapped the five files on the small table they were sitting around. "All I'm here for is one answer… why didn't you kill him while you still had the chance?" Silence for nearly half an hour followed his statement.

"What do you think you know?" a pale Albus asked after looking over two files that bore the name Severus Snape and one labeled Snape Severus.

Alastor had made a preliminary scan of the files labeled Severa Moody he was now rereading select parts while paying close attention to the Vampire with his magical eye.

Though his gaze was wandering over the room and the various artifacts on the shelves, Starch was acutely aware of the tense Wizards, especially where their hands were in comparison to their wands. "I know almost everything I need to know in order to make my next move. Except why you didn't kill him when you had the chance."

"The obvious question being, what makes you think that we want him dead." Alastor's challenge waited for an answer. 

Starch looked to Albus with mild amusement, "Is he really the best they could find? I mean they couldn't find anyone else that had enough power and purity in their blood, they had to go with him?"

"Alastor," Albus placed a hand on his friend's sleeve, turning to Starch, "You run with him then, you're close with him?"

Slouching into the soft back of his chair Starch took off his sunglasses, "He runs with me, no one runs with him. Of course he's made contacts outside of your knowledge. With what you know of him, does it surprise you? Survival is his instinctive goal, he was asking for your help and now it is too late. Snape is too strong. So again I ask, why didn't you kill him when you were asked to?"

"Too many he's and him's," Alastor leaned forward, shrugging off Albus' hand, "What do you call him, so we can keep everything straight."

With a soft chuckle Starch leaned forward as well, "I'm not so foolish as to think that I could pin a name on someone who isn't even real to themselves. What would that accomplish, another hiding place, another false front? I only ask why you didn't help him because I want to know if you will help me- and don't even think about drawing that wand Moody I'm already dead." 

"According to these reports," Albus waved a hand over the open folders and broke the stand off, "they are both rejecting the grafts. Do you know if they have matured enough to survive separation?"

"They have not grown as they should have, you probably noticed this."

Albus was reminded of the shock he had felt, just before the first Magical Self-defense class, seeing that the harness still fit the male. Alastor was remembering an incident that had come up the last time he had visited Severa before she came to Hogwarts. She was wearing a bracelet that she had had since she was thirteen. It had fit then and was snug now, but without a resizing charm it shouldn't have fit at all.

Starch saw a sort of confirmation in the two wizards' faces, "With out enough room to grow they were stunted, physically and developmentally. It has taken longer for them to reach, if you'll excuse the expression, full Manna. I believe they have caught up with themselves now and are as fully developed as they will ever be. Runts, with more power than anything since the creation of the first Unicorn." He rose and pushed his chair in to the table, "I hope your Unspeakable Ministry is pleased with what they were able to do, Garoms of old, walking among us again." Putting on his shades he headed for the door, "Don't bother getting up I can find my own way. You will help, I can see that much. I have something to give them then I'll go."

"They are the last," Albus spoke softly. "The others were eliminated when the program was canceled."

"Canceled?! Do you mean to say," Starch recrossed the threshold and leaned in, his fists on the table, "that you were involved in a program that illegal and when it was shut down you **stole** them?!" He shook his head, "Three thousand yeas ago the Atlantians made the use of magic to enhance interspecies eugenics illegal for a reason-"

"Early in the war," Alastor interrupted, "our best projections had us loosing, all of the projections really, the only difference being how much time we had left. We had less time as Voldemort intensified his campaign. It was decided that alternative means needed to be found to win. Reconstructing the Garom race seemed like the best chance we had."

Starch shook his head, _'Assassins, they wanted assassins to defeat the Dark Lord._ _If the Ministry catches them-' _"You're walking Dementor chow the both of you." With a final glance from Albus to Alastor and back he shoved away from the table and left to find his friend.

"That," Alastor said looking to the now closed door, "is the first hyperactive Ancient I have ever met." 


	29. Shrewd As Serpents

Not all of this is mine. In fact Hope asked me how Remus and LaCroix met and I just started mulling that one over for a while (sorry Hope dear, no LaCroix. But I do answer your question, that's something, right?). 

JKR invented most of the Wizards and Witches and stuff here, as this is an HP AU but some of it is also from other places. If it's not mine then I am not even trying to make money off of it. 

I do not encourage the use of illegal drugs or the abuse of prescription drugs. This is a fanfic.

Now about the House Points… I have yet to get any reviews from anyone who actually told me they were a Ravenclaw or a Huffelpuff As things stood when I posted the Points went:

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Gryffindor-40 Points- Frogfoot24 is awarded 10 points for correctly identifying the proper purpose of an Add-Nauseum potion: CapriceAnn is awarded 10 Points for turning her assigned work in on time

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Slytherin-80 Points- Sunna is awarded 10 Points for drawing in class (beautiful fic-pics write and I'll send links); RivanKnight is awarded 10 Points for an astute assesment of character (specifically for liking Starch); Hope is awarded 10 points for an insightful paper on the mutability of inactive ingredient substitution; Jemini is awarded 10 Points for an extra credit parchment on the Bottled-fame potion

Ravenclaw-10 Points **(**Ok so I'm fudging a bit here cause BookofDays didn't leave a note of which House they were affiliated with so I'm just guessing based on the wording of the review**)** BookofDays is awarded 10 Points for appreciating the delicate art that is fanfic

Huffelpuff- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter Starts Here: 

"Oh." Remus had to take a step to the side to avoid crashing into the man coming down the dungeon stairs, "Sorry, didn't see you there." He had been paying attention to the line of hovering jars that were trying to follow him up the stairs. (Larval Hydras for his Fourth Years to learn the proper methods of detecting and removing the water borne parasites.)

"That's ok," Starch murmured as he passed the slightly distracted man, "it's that time of the month right."

"Excuse me?" Remus stopped again when the words sank in. "What did you say?"

Trying not to laugh he called back, "The name is Starch, and we're only about a week from the next full moon. Is he down here?"

Remus stammered, "Wha- who do you mean?"

"The Other," Starch threw over his shoulder just as he gained the foot of the stairs. "Never mind I'll find him." Looking for a moment at the hall that he shouldn't have been able to see, but could, _'He really has told me this entire place,'_ the Vampire mused. _'Well the dungeons at least. Obviously I'm only supposed to be able to find my way around down here, he didn't even bother telling me about the Gargoyle door to the Headmaster's office.'_ Moving with the silence and grace of all Vampires, the occupants of the Potions classroom were unaware of his presence. 

"Look," the male sounded less than half-awake, "I have a lot of work to do tonight and unless you can either make sense or keep quiet, I suggest that you find something else to do." He was carefully adding Unicorn tears. One drop at a time, they fell into the murky colored potion and gradually began turning it to a rather cheery yellow.

Watching from the door Starch smiled softly. '_The Human, he calls him Black but I think his given name is Sirius, there was something about him a few years ago…'_ with a mental shrug at his lack of interest in Wizard news for the past few hundred years, he went back to observing. Both were wearing protective goggles and Dragon-hide smocks, but the Human was wearing a rather annoyed expression while the male was wearing Dragon hide gloves and a look of near catatonic concentration. As though the cauldron he was leaning over couldn't, with a single drop too many, turn the room into a superheated furnace. 

"I am being perfectly clear," Sirius rolled his eyes (which looked odd behind the thick goggles,) "I'm just asking how you can be a member of The Order and Snape's lover, he's a Death Eater."

He had decided to work in the classroom instead of his lab because of the spells that were required to properly stabilize the potion. '_It would have ruined every piece of equipment in the lab to have that much framed magic flying about. But having Black talk nonsense while trying to sound like he was being lucid, is enough to make me wish I could rethink my choice.'_ Even with the sudden bark of a laugh from the doorway and Black's surprised outcry he did not miss a beat in the chant that he was whispering. On some level he was aware of what was going on around him in the room, but his world revolved within the hot vapors that wrapped around him and caused sweat to bead on his exposed skin.

Stepping into the room Starch walked over and sat on the desk next to Sirius', "Sirius Black, am I right?" his tone perfectly friendly. 

It took all of three minutes for Sirius to forget that he was talking to an animate dead man. Starch had remembered, from somewhere, that Sirius had a motorcycle and that had started an easy conversation. A conversation that conveniently caused Sirius to forget that he had been interrogating the Garom moments ago.

~

"Nice shades," he commented looking up from the cooling brew. His own blue eyes shone dimly through the protective goggles. "How long are you staying for?"

Starch smirked, "You have no idea how badly you want a beating, do you? Probably just a few hours unless you can find time to get into some trouble…" he trailed off suggestively.

"Go find her and see if she has time tonight. I've just about spent my monthly allowance, but I think if we pool then a trip to the Raven sounds good. Janet has some local band signed for the next couple of weeks." Brushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes the male returned his focus to the cauldron before him.

At midnight Remus and Sirius found themselves getting ready to head back to Toronto, this time with a Vampire and a female Garom in addition to their now, usual, escort. 

Starch was going as is, Black had transfigured himself a black turtleneck and silvery-grey blazer and slacks. Remus had on a black T-shirt that read ~~~I hate my life, can I have yours?~~~ and a pair of heavily pocketed pants that Sirius called cargo's. 

"After all that complaining you did about every Vampire in the place brushing their fingers against your neck," Sirius laughed while putting on his mirrored sunglasses, "now you're fine?"

Remus was fussing with the zippers on the thigh pockets of his pants, "I didn't know it was LaCroix's territory." He looked up, "If I had known he was there- I might not have gone, but I wouldn't have been worried."

One pair of bright blue eyes in the lead and another pair at the end of the line they made their way through the halls tunnels and passages. Without a time limit there was no rush and a few detours were taken to skip the Morlock territory. Everything went as before except that when they appeared in Toronto, instead of the Port-booth on the street corner, Sirius and Remus found themselves in a subway station safely underground.

The only person to notice their arrival was an old bum with a faded knit cap. He was huddled up in a pile of old newspapers and rags, he just rolled over and went back to sleep.

Starch stepped out of the glassy phone booth and paced the platform waiting for the other two to arrive. He listened as Sirius tried explaining the idea of underground trains that ran on electricity. "Get back from the Edge," he grabbed both men by the collars of their shirts and pulled them back. A whispery roaring something rushed past and pulled at bits of litter pant legs and the edges of open jackets. "Would you just stay over by the phone? Describe the tracks and if you need to, get him a bloody postcard! But if either of you gets killed before one of them gets here then it's my fault!"

Remus watched wide-eyed as a train breezed past on its way somewhere else. "How do they get where they want to go? Do they make the tunnels move around the way the KKnight bus moves the road signs and stuff?"

"They're here," Starch announced with obvious relief and pointed to the two figures wrapped in matching nearly floor length midnight-green dusters. 

"Ready? Sun's down." The female cocked an eyebrow at the three, then jerked her head toward the male who was already heading up to the street level.

A half block from the Raven Starch drew even with the male. As they passed an alley he made a sudden grab for the front of the green jacket and yanked him into the narrow passage. Lifting him high enough so that his boots weren't even close to the pavement he slammed the Male back against the wall, "What the hell are you pulling?!" he demanded.

He had known that Starch was going to make a move, but hadn't quite expected this, now he submitted to the steely grip, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his feet dangling. "I have no idea what you are talking about." The lie was smooth off his tongue and too obvious to fool the Vampire.

Starch gave the male a little slack then shoved him back against the bricks rougher than the first time, "What are you after here? You're not going to the Raven because you had nothing better to do tonight. Tell me what your goal is, what are you after?!" The female was watching from the head of the alley, the male was making no effort to even defend himself, and until he gave some signal that she should move in, then she was staying put. _'Wonder what the fool thinks he's doing. It's not like Starch is going to hurt him, and they both know it.'_ But she clenched her hands into fists anyway The half-gloves covered her palms so her nails couldn't bite into the flesh.

"I don't have a target," he looked away, his blue eyes clouding with suppressed fear, " All I'm doing is trying to find a place to hide- away from him, to think for a while."

Grey eyes gained a dangerous red rim as his Vampire strength came into play. Two fists full of lapel, Starch gave him a violent shake that should have rattled his teeth, "Don't play those pop-psyche games with me," he growled, "I have known you too deeply to buy the lies."

"I swear all I was-"

A second, more violent shake and another slam against the alley wall, "I know you can keep your secrets and you won't talk unless you choose. But I also know that you won't strike against me. I will hold you here until the sun kisses my ashes if I have to… and you know I will, if that's what it takes to have the truth from you."

He took several breathes before lifting his left hand and letting it rest, light as a moth, against one of the pale wrists at his throat. Eyes closed his voice, gossamer in the dank air of the alley, "She is ill. The child has wants. I need money." He opened his eyes slowly and luminous blue disks met gleaming red rings, "I can't let her go public, he'll kill the child just to hurt me. I can't access his bank accounts. All I have isn't worth enough to cover the specialists that she needs…"

"No," Starch shook his own head, then shook the male for good measure, but there was no force behind his actions now. 

"Not if I sold it," he drew his knees up enough to brace his feet against the wall at his back, "but I can rent it for five-hundred dollars an hour. Starch, if you can think of a better way to get twenty-five hundred dollars in one night, then I'll listen. Otherwise, I'm just running out of time."

He had to look up to match the Other's gaze, what he saw sickened him, "You will not do this," he was mildly surprised to hear the tell-tale lisp in his voice, his fangs had dropped.

Closing off the flood of pale blue light the poured from his eyes he waited for Starch to either give him an alternative or set him back on the ground. 

The Other Half Of This Chapter:

The small group approached the Raven one member short. Sirius cast a look back over his shoulder and saw the Vampire point his lighted wand at the pavement, summoning a Knight Cab. 

"He has a wand," Remus noted aloud.

"Yah," Sirius faced forward in time to avoid running into the edge of the door the male was holding for them, "He was a Medi Wizard, before."

The music was more like audio torture with a light show, to Remus. He didn't even try to reply to Sirius until they pushed their way far enough toward the bar that talking was possible again. "This is supposed to be a band? Like with music?" 

Sirius laughed and waved over a passing redhead, who was balancing a tray loaded with empty glasses, some of which had a suspiciously red residue. "Two healthy glasses of Ogden's Old."

"Before you ask," Remus took a seat at a table that was sheltered from the music by one of the columns, "she is Human. And don't ask again, I don't want a repeat of last time."

Sirius shrugged, "Ok, new topic, how do you know LaCroix?"

Their drinks arrived and they watched the Garoms wander over to the two empty seats at the near end of the bar. Remus took several sips and thought before answering, "In India, in Pradesh just outside of Shimla, he had a small private estate. He had a book that one of his children had found, in Germany I think…" Staring into his drink his voice became ever more distant and he seemed to wander from the topic at hand to another, "It had many dangerous and forgotten things within its pages. A full-blooded Were is immortal and born a Were. They have control over their shifting. A half blooded Were has greatly extended longevity after being bitten, but is at the mercy of the moon." He took another sip and turned the glass in his hand, "I knew of the book and what it was rumored to contain. Eventually I found LaCroix. We made a deal." Finishing his drink he glanced over Sirius' shoulder at the nearly comatose pair, "The Atlantean's used a potion that can't be made now because most of the material used was from plants and animals that are extinct. Garom blood was the main ingredient." 

The crowd shivered and the music faltered, Starch let the door swing shut behind him. Combing one hand through his spiked hair he scanned the staring audience. He caught sight of Sirius and Remus and headed for their table, "You haven't been thrown out and you seem to still be alive," he smirked, "I guess that's a good sign." Dropping his messenger bag in an empty seat he passed Sirius and Remus moving to stand at the male's side.

They had been coexisting rather peaceably at the bar, then Starch came over and she could tell that now was a very good time to check on the Humans. Sliding from her stool she left it for the Vampire and took the unoccupied seat at the table, across from Starch's bag, "Hey," she called to a Vampiress who was delivering a pitcher of beer to the next table over. "One Black Ice, and what ever they want." Sirius and Remus made their orders and the woman headed off again. "Do you regret your deal with LaCroix?" she didn't stop scanning the crowd as she spoke to Remus.

"How did you-" 

She cut Black off, "Reading lips is far easier than most people seem to think."

Remus' brow furrowed slightly, "I don't really know. I think that's why it feels so weird to be in his territory again."

Blue eyes with fat round pupils focused on Lupin for a moment before going back to the dancers and drinkers, "His territory? You have no sense of the social dynamics of a mix-blooded community do you," she loosed a small laugh. "This might be LaCroix's **territory**, but he is the Golden Boy here," she nodded in the direction of the male. "Not even LaCroix would give him pause."

@--'---,-------------

When the female left, Starch took her stool, "Do you even know why I've never touched you like that?"

The male did not turn to meet his eyes. Instead he brought his elbows back and propped himself against the bar. Watching the people- Human, Were, Vampire, and others that would need more effort to classify. All he really needed to know was what kind of threat they could pose and the swiftest way of eliminating them. 

Starch knew his every move to well to misunderstand, "I'm not going to let someone else…" he had had enough time that his emotions were under control again, but not by much. _'What is there to say that he could understand?'_ "Here," he placed a muggle envelope, that looked ready to burst, on the counter at his elbow then ordered them both drinks.

Turning swiftly he looked at the envelope for a while before picking it up and, with a glance at his friends face, he opened the flap. He swallowed and set it back on the counter. "I can't let you," he choked out past the knot in his throat.

"And I can't let someone else," Starch grunted back and accepted the drinks.

He picked up his tumbler of Black Ice and swirled it slowly, blindly he snatched up the envelope and stuffed it in a pocket. Taking a deep gulp of the cool colorless liquid he nodded mutely.

Starch caught the movement with the corner of his eye, "Do you understand why I've never touched you like that?"

"No." He stood and pushed against the Vampire's shoulder with his gloved palm, forcing Starch to turn and face him. "I am- willing… it is what you paid for."

"No," brushing off the hand on his shoulder, being careful to touch only the jacket sleeve, Starch shook his head, "This is why I haven't. I love Lenore. But in a different way I love you also. If I had touched you-, you would have submitted out of a sense of debit. And that would have hurt our friendship, hurt you, far more than I could live with."

He couldn't understand but Starch seemed to think it was important, "My master loves me like a son, I can see it in his eyes."

"The world got all screwed up the day I drank you in. You are my son and my father and my best friend," tears were gathering in his eyes staining the world red. "Do you understand why I've never touched you like that?"

Still nothing. He reached out and nearly touched one cool alabaster cheek, "I need the money. Is that wrong?" a silent **no**, "You gave me the money, is that wrong?" another **no**, "I owe you what I offered for that money, is that wrong?"

"Yes," he closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the hand beside his cheek. "We are beyond debt and payment. The lines are too old and too tangled."

~

"Go ahead and ask," Starch grinned. They were sitting at the table, the Garoms had drifted into the throng on the dance floor. "We have almost four more hours here and if you get it out of your system you'll be able to relax."

"What's with the hair?" Remus cringed, "That wasn't meant as rudely as it sounded."

Starch ran one hand through his retro mop of hair, "My great grandfather was a dapple-grey Satyr, I inherited his spots." 

Sirius mimed fluffiness, "And the cut?"

He almost choked on his drink grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth, "My hair is bristly, I didn't get it cut like this, it just grows this way."

Sirius gave a low whistle his eyes wide behind his sunglasses, "So, it really is genetic."

They all laughed for a moment, then Starch held up a hand to flag down Gina, "Another round if you please little one." Remus shook his head and politely refused. "Well another whatever for the Human and another A Lite for me then," he ordered, (Lite referring to platelet free plasma.) Gina smiled sweetly and slipped through the crowd of patrons. "I lost track of the Other two, Sirius you were watching them right?" Worriedly he searched the masses.

"Yah," Sirius pointed to a thick knot of writhing dancers, "He's over there. It looks like he's dancing with three women and at least one man, maybe two, but it gets hard to tell 'cause Muggle dance is so free form."

"Right," Starch sighed, "and where's the female?"

Remus finally found her because of her distinctive gloves. She was holding her hands above her head and twining her fingers through the air as she turned from one partner to another swaying her hips and whipping her spine as though trying to physically meld with the jarring music.

A large white Raven hopped in as someone left. He tilted his head and flew to perch atop a decorative mask hanging on the wall. Spying his target at a table with two other people he gave a quiet, yet satisfied, croak. The especially high ceiling allowed him enough room to swoop down to the table and drop in front of the sandy-grey hared man. "Remus Lupin," his voice was a bit scratchy, like a person with a very sore throat. Tilting his head he peered at the man with first one eye then the other, "If you are going to cross the sea I would appreciate your telling me so I can hold your mail until you get back!" The bird narrowed its eyes for a moment, in obvious disapproval, then reached into the small pack on his back using his beak. "Here," he flung the letter at Lupin, "Will you be wanting to send a reply? I just happen to be heading that way." (Ravens are known for wry humor and he was obviously no exception.)

"Uh," Remus picked up the letter, "I, uh…" he kept fingering the hemp string that tied the letter closed. He tried to explain to Sirius and Starch, "I think I ought to just read this and, uh…".

"Is this about that girl you've been writing?" Sirius gave his already uncomfortable friend and prying look.

Ducking his head for a second Remus blushed slightly, "Her name is Tala."

"And…" Black was enjoying this.

"And we've been writing for a few weeks," his throat was going dry.

"…and… is she pretty?" Sirius was almost leering, much to his friend's discomfort.

Remus laughed nervously, "Yah, she's beautiful. But come on it's not like anything is-" Sirius' reflective sunglasses did nothing to hide the glint in his eyes. "She's a Were Coyote." 

Drumming fingernails sounded on the table at the empty fourth seat. "I don't have an inexhaustible supply of patients," the white skinned white hared white clad young man sighed. 

Sirius had been so focused on embarrassing Remus that he hadn't seen the stranger take the seat beside him and his surprise showed. _'What happened to that instinct I've worked up over the past few years? That one that's supposed to tell me I'm being watched.'_

Turning too-large red-black eyes to Sirius he gave a thin lipped smirk, and continued tapping his black nails on the table, "Are you going to finish that?" he darted a nod at Sirius' drink.

"Mescaline," Remus looked up from his letter, "don't harass Sirius, and yes I'll be sending back a reply. Just give me a minute, and have some nuts," he pushed over the small complementary bowl of nuts that had been provided for their table.


	30. Under The Influence

I am bringing out all sorts of references from several sources. I am not claiming anything as my own that I did not in fact invent. Please do not get angry or offended if I am borrowing something that is yours, I will return it when the fic is done.

~

"Is it really that hard for you to behave yourself?" Folding his return message Remus handed it to Mescaline who stood and tucked it into the small pouch on his back. 

Mescaline smiled his thin smile and grabbed a last beernut before shifting back to his true form. "If I weren't worth the trouble, I wouldn't be myself," the white Raven's sarcastic reply was emphasized by an overly obvious wink. "Just for your information, Casanova, she wouldn't say anything but she is hoping that you'll come by and see her soon. " He cackled a laugh and shot out the open door into the night.

The female joined them almost as though she had been waiting for the seat to become available (she had.) Her jacket was open and as it fell away, her outfit was visible for the first time to the three men. Garom boots gloves and collar topped it off, but they had seen those. They now saw that she also wore a pair of black jeans that hung low on her painfully bony hips and a black shirt that was only slightly loose and exposed her pale stomach. 

"You have lost weight," Starch commented dryly. 

She did not acknowledge him, instead she faced Remus, "He wants to try the serum on you next Friday. you'll need to stay off the inhibitor and Wolf's bane potion."

"I'll do it," Remus answered quickly. He had been thinking about this for a long time, nearly two years in fact, most of the second guessing and uncertain fears had been exhausted. _'Since being bitten I've looked for a cure. For the past two years I've felt it coming, can I really be one week from being free?'_ Well one last worried thought was ok, he supposed.

She got up to let the male have a seat. It just happened, without thought or prompting or anything. It happened so smoothly that no one really noticed, and that was a mistake.

The male was carrying his jacket draped over one arm. His low jeans showed off his hipbones but his shirt was not quite as brief as the female's. It was only when he raised his hands above his head, to put the jacket back on, that they got a glimpse of his protruding ribs.

"Mescaline?" he asked as he sat, "Did he steal anything from any of you. He's got a thing for shiny stuff." 

"It took Black a bit to recognise what it was that had drunk his whisky when he looked away," the female was almost smiling.

"You've lost weight too," Starch tonelessly.

"When one throws up more often than they eat, that tends to happen," the male responded. Then he changed the subject, a very old move that Starch knew all too well. He addressed Lupin and Black, "Enough Ogden's Black, either of you had any Talisker?" 

Gina quickly returned with their drinks, "Two Black Ice," she was very careful not to get too close to the Garoms as she set down their drinks. She then made up for it by rubbing against Remus and Sirius, "Two Taliskers, and one double malt plasma O positive," she was shy with Starch, as she had been with LaCroix. 

Conversation started between Starch Lupin and Black and none of them noticed what else was going on for quite some time. The male had nicked Lupin's Pocket Quill and was absentmindedly scribbling on napkins from the stack that Gina had accidentally left behind. 

"It's almost six," the female said from where she stood, leaning on the back of the male's chair. "We should go soon."

"Six o'clock?" Sirius darted a look at his Wizard watch, "It's only one." 

She shook her head, "Here it is almost one, there it is almost six, you're drunk."

"Am not," Sirius tried to look affronted. He ended up looking as drunk as he in fact was. "What's he doing," Black asked, pointing to the mess that had been created as, one after another, every napkin in the large stack was marked then thrown on the floor.

Only the male and female did not seem to pay any attention. The female had wandered away to lean against a pillar and was watching the people. Starch got to his feet and was joined by Remus as he leaned over the male's shoulder to see what he was doing. 

He wasn't looking at the paper or the people who were watching him, he knew they were there the same way he knew he was writing, but he was really paying attention to the female and the way she was watching the rest of the room. With his right hand he moved the quill over the scrap of paper with his left he slid the used sheet off of the (by now very short) stack of papers and let it fall off the edge of the table.

Starch retrieved several of the napkins and moved closer to a shaded lamp to read what had been written. Remus watched the male for the duration of three more napkins, then picked up a few. He flipped the first on its side then upside down, it still made no sense, "What does it say?" he asked the quiet Vampire.

Unwilling to be left out, Sirius tripped slightly as he got up, and again as he bent to scoop up a fist full of the thin white pages. "Oh, English," he cried happily dropping the others. He squinted, "It's too dark," he said and dropped it to the floor.

Pushing his chair back (and scattering the small mound of napkins) the male rose and handed Remus' quill back to him, "Done?" he asked the female.

"Medium rare," she smiled lightly. They moved toward the door, the female called back, "Lupin, Black we're going."

"What do you mean?" Sirius squinted behind his shades.

"She is still pink in the middle," the male spoke as the female unobtrusively picked up Starch's bag, "enough energy left to get you back but she is almost done." The Garoms promptly headed out to the street.

Remus took hold of Sirius' arm and pulled him along, "Why do you get drunk every time we come here?" he complained. "You are supposed to be keeping a low profile until you get your acquittal. Not getting picked up on a drunk and disorderly."

Starch caught up with them as they were nearly to the door. "Here," he shoved a napkin into Remus' hand," Give this to Dumbledore and tell him that he should be proud. He doesn't even know he knows."

Back in the cool night air (even if it was choked with the smells and sounds of a large Muggle city) Remus sighed. The Garoms were walking slowly and Remus had no real trouble dragging Sirius along. Sirius was a complacent drunk, _'Thank Merlin for small favours!'_ he thought.

"He won't let them get me."

Lupin was thrown by Sirius' random statement then he connected it to the question he had asked a few minutes ago. "The male? What makes you think he would protect you from an army of American Aurors?"

"Because I'm his," Sirius slurred the words a little. "Didn't you notice it at the bar? He stayed within eye contact of us the whole night except when he went to throw up. Then the female took over, she's right. You have no understanding of social order in mixed company." He laughed at his own pun, then went quiet again.

"And you do?" Remus was a little miffed, _'He's just drunk. But so am I, a little at least.'_ "You've been in prison for twelve years. What do you know about being around mixed company?" 

The four of them were now in an abandoned lot between a condemned building and a should-have-been-condemned apartment. "I'll take him," the male indicated Black.

"Okie with me," she replied.

The male grabbed hold of Sirius' jacket and hauled him several steps away. The female got a good hold on Remus' shoulder and whispered an apology a moment before the world melted away. A cloud of shining glitter blocked their vision. As it settled the corridor that led to Lupin and Black's rooms came into focus.

Lupin turned, "How did you-" but the male and female were already heading back to the Snape's rooms. He made sure that Sirius got back to his own bed then pulling the crumpled note from a cargo pocket he headed for the Headmaster's private quarters.

~

Albus had assured him that he wasn't intruding, and Minerva had offered to go. They had been having an early morning coffee, and quiet chat but seeing Remus' condition (he hadn't taken the time to retransfigure his robes and though his increased healing factor made it harder to get drunk, he wasn't totally sober. 

"Is this something that you would prefer to keep private?" Albus asked, a little reluctant to have Minerva leave so soon. "We could speak in my Official Office," his eyes twinkled at the reference to the formal office that he had inherited from the former Headmaster. He rarely used it but it did have the most thorough confidentiality charm coverage of any room in the school.

"Maybe that would be better," Remus waited for Albus to rise, the followed him into the office. "I don't really understand what he meant so I'm not sure if I'm over reacting here, but," he handed the crumpled napkin to the Headmaster. He described what had happened then relayed the message that Starch had given him.

"Thank you for your help, Remus," Albus did not have to work very hard to force a kind smile and make some sort of comment about something that calmed Remus' worried expression. He had been playing the kindly old fool for many years and falling back on that role was as natural as breathing. Once Remus was gone, he sat heavily on his favourite settee and rested his head in his hands.

Seeing his distress, Minerva sat beside him and placed a light arm over his shoulders, "Albus? Is it some thing you can tell me about?"

"No." He gathered himself enough to make an honest effort at a smile, "Minerva, would you please make my excuses to the faculty, I don't think I'll have time to join you all for breakfast."

She caught the way he had phrased his request, putting separation between himself and the rest of the faulty, "Of course Albus," she rose gave him one last squeeze on the shoulder and moved toward the door.

"One thing Minerva?" he glanced at the napkin in his hand, "Would you please send Severus up?"

She gave a wan, but encouraging smile, and softly closed the door.

Carefully Albus unfolded the paper and read the lines again,

~~~I drank myself into oblivion last night,

Woke up still trapped within this shell of bone and flesh,

Nothing couldn't consume my pain,

Yet I continue to continue.

Why…~~~

__

'Does he really think I'm proud of this? What does that- he's not even a full Vampire, think I was trying to do?! Alastor and I could not have let them be eliminated, after that what choice did we have?' 

One tap on the door drew Albus from his angry thoughts, "Come in Severus," Albus called. 

The door opened just enough for the thin figure to slip by. "What do you require," the words were spoken earnestly and that sincerity was reflected in the deep blue eyes.

"You used the suppressant?"

He took a seat close to the Headmaster, but not too close to the fire, and closed his eyes, "You think I would come here, at your request, at this time of day, and not take the suppressant?" 

"Has Neville spoken with you since the last time?" Albus veered from the topic again. He saw the male's jaw clench and waited for him to speak.

"He has come to speak about it three times, in the evening fortunately. No he doesn't know everything, but I felt that he should know that I altered the Heroin base of the potion to the point where it has no addictive or hallucinogenic properties left." 

"And that satisfied him?"

The male sighed, "Is there a point to this? You've never shown any kind of interest in my dealings with the students since the first day, and even then, all you did was make me promise not to kill anyone without necessity."

Albus realized he had been absentmindedly handling the napkin and made an effort to smooth it out, _'He is using too many personal pronouns, are things moving faster than even Alastor thought?'_ "How long ago did you take the injection?"

"You just sent for me," he squinted a questioning look to the Headmaster, "I only use it when I need to, you know I would never hurt him."

Albus held forth the, now worn, and wrinkled napkin, "Remus said that you wrote this," the male carefully took it without touching the hand that held it. "He said that you wrote it in at least four different languages, I'm assuming that you didn't use only the languages that Remus happens to know."

He shrugged and tried to hand the poem back, "I did have quite a lot to drink last night but I have not gone away yet. I had only time enough to change into work clothes before McGonagall was at me to see you." When Albus did not take the paper back he set it on the endtable to his left. "Maybe he wrote it, if I can influence him he should be able to more than influence me." He watched Dumbledore for a few moments then tentatively tried another subject, "Mister Longbottom is failing Potions already, he has not turned in one assignment that included even an abstractly interpretationally right answer."

"Really Severus," Albus chuckled, mostly because he needed to release the tension within himself before it was absorbed by the Other. "We are not even a full month into the new term. He has always had more trouble with Potions than any other subject, and if I may say so you are in a position to help him I think."

The dusky blue of his eyes gained a faint shimmer as his pupils became slightly oblong, "He is passing Potions Theory without trouble. There is no way that a person can, through random stupidity, accidentally blow-up every cauldron they work with." The black ovals became more pronouncedly unHuman as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Every single time **except **withthe potions that, if induced into an explosion, would cause harm to others." one brow rose skeptically, "He is shamming."

"Puts me in mind of another shamming student I had many years ago," Albus mused, "A certain reclusive black hared Slytherin if I remember correctly."

"That may have been my fault," the male conceded with a slight smirk, "But then you can hardly say it was** my** fault, he chose this not me."

"Breakfast is nearly over," Albus said, with a glance at the Wizard's clock on his wall, "You should probably let him eat. And Severus," he called the retreating sham back, "Be very careful from now on, he will not stay his hand from anything to hurt us."

"I know Master, but if he does strike against the Order, he won't live long enough to do you or the child harm. You two, at least, I can kill for."

Alone again, Albus remembered more than Severus' days as a student, and something much more resent, _'"You must kill him…" you asked it of me not so long ago, have you really gained enough of a hold that you could do it yourself now? Would you survive?'_

~

Late Tuesday night after all papers had been graded and detentions had been inflicted, Alastor Moody sat in comfortable silence on the black side of a very old chessboard.

"Check. And how was your day," the female did not look away from the board as she asked.

Alastor gave a slightly maniacal half grin, "Afraid I'll move the pieces on ye Severa?"

"No," she gave him her sweetest (and fakest) smile, "But I have played against you at least twice a week for as long as I can remember, and I don't trust the pieces you use." 

"Filch and I are getting along better than I had hoped," he couldn't help but chuckle when that brought her eyes up for a quick flash. "The man may hate every living thing on this Earth except that tatty old cat, but he knows more about the tactical layout of this place than anyone. If I didn't trust him a tenth as well as I do…" He finally nudged his King over two so it could castle, and left the statement half done. 

"Where is his allegiance," she murmured with a nod to the white bishop who had been patiently waiting to take Alastor's remaining knight.

Still grinning Alastor shook his head, "How do you ambush like that, so easily? Oddly enough Filch's allegiance is owed to Severus. I've never seen anyone hold a debtor as tightly as he does, except maybe you." 

"Ah, but I'm not that much of a strategist." She pounced on another piece he had left unguarded, "I'm an opportunist with limited vision. He can see and plan half a game in advance."

"But?" he knew she had stopped with a thought still waiting to be voiced.

"But he has trouble executing those plans." She tilted her head as Alastor's rook slid down to put her in check. Her queen promptly took his rather offensive rook, and on the next move put him in checkmate.

"He needs a partner," Alastor spoke contemplatively, but watched her reaction closely, "someone he can watch over as they act on his orders."

The pieces took care of them selves as she rose to leave, "Yes, I believe you're right. He would make a better guardian and commander than he would a blindly trusting point-man. Actually that sounds a bit like what I do," she coughed a laugh and headed to the dungeons. 

Alastor turned from the cleared chessboard and stared into the fire, "Terribly coincidental, that," he whispered to the dancing flames and empty room. "The two of you, being balanced to cover each other's gaps." _'You were right Albus,'_ he thought,_ 'she is using the first person singular far more than she should be able to.'_ Thinking back on the charms that had been used he frowned, _'No, those charms aren't wearing down. It must be the failing graft. Damn.'_


	31. It Really Is A Sham

Do not sue, I make no money from you. If you wrote something I'm using, you generosity I hope I'm not abusing.

Because of the huge problems I was having with ffnet I do not have a listing for House Points on this chapter. If you're still interested please let me know! I am more than willing to bring it back. (Slytherin was in the lead at last count)

One last thing, I stopped breaking up the chapters with sub-chapters. Posting here and on schnoogle is a little harder than I thought so I will be trying to make things as easy for me as I can. ;)

Wednesday morning Neville was late as usual. He did have his assigned scroll and managed to (with the help of his new Remebral) actually come to class with everything he needed for Fifth Year Potions. _'But I'm still late,' _he quietly slunk past the glowering Professor Snape and silently accepted the minus five House Points, for disrupting class. He noticed that Professor Moody was absent, _'Wonder what that means? She's almost always here.' _He, and the rest of the class as well, failed to notice that their Potions Master was deliberately letting his hair fall in his eyes…blue eyes.

"Hi, Mione," he smiled as he took his usual place beside her. Hermione smiled back, though it was a little brief as she was also taking notes. When it was time to gather supplies he offered to go to the supplies cupboard.

"Thanks Neville…" 

Hermione was looking at him kind of funny, so he rushed off, and managed to collide with Goyle. "Sorry," he stammered, offering to let the (much larger) Slytherin get to the cabinet first.

"Get out of my face Gryff," the (down right huge) boy snarled.

Neville scuffed at one corner of a stone that was not exactly flat, like the rest of the floor, and waited as Goyle, then Lavender, followed by Ron, Clausen and Blaise all went ahead of him. By the time he got back to Hermione she was in the middle of a nervous breakdown because most of the other pairs of students had started brewing already. 

It was always fun to watch Hermione work, _'She is so serious.'_ Neville thought, _'Like she needs to prove herself every time we get an assignment.'_

"Neville would you please hand me the Gillyweed," holding her hand out Hermione did not look up from her notes, "and could you cut the Rocktripe and grind up the Lobster shells? I like the haircut."

"Sure," he handed her the jar of soggy wormy looking weeds and did a double take on her last comment. "M-my hair?" His hand flew up to cover the top of his head, as though checking to make sure he still had hair, _'Well since Fred and George released that Balding Bubblegum you just can't be too careful,'_ reasured that he still had hair, he tried to act natural. "Uh, what about my hair?" _'I am such a looser.'_

Glancing up from her diced Gillyweed Hermione gave him another funny look, "You got it cut, over the weekend. I like the pageboy style that's all."

"I went to see my grandmother, she wanted me to get it cut… you're the only person to notice." Nervous again he ran a hand through his hair. _'I'm supposed to be grinding Lobster shells.'_ He sprang into action, almost knocked the jar of Gillyweed over onto Hermione's notes, and began to furiously blush while turning the dark brown claw shells to dust.

~

Stalking about the classroom Snape came out with another question, "Does anyone other than Miss Granger know what type of Lobster shell is used in the making of the Water Substitute potion?" He gave a careless nod to one of the few Slytherin hands that were up, "Yes Miss Clausen."

"The shells must be from a Lobster twenty-eight years old and the shell must have been molted and collected under a full moon. Other than that there are no requirements."

"Very good, ten Points to Slytherin."

__

'And so it goes,' Neville thought while slicing the Rocktripe into thin ribbons. 

"Miss Patill," Snape turned on her with a speed that made the other Gryffindors wince, some how he must have known she hadn't studied much. "Would you please tell us what purpose a Water Substitute serves."

Neville bit his lip, they were about to loose more points because the latest edition of Teen Witch had come in.

"Five Points from Gryffindor, perhaps Mister Malfoy?" Snape favoured the Slytherin every chance he got.

"Kuschman's Dreamless Sleep Potion, the strongest Dreamless Sleep Potion in circulation today, was first produced by Alfred Kuschman. It calls for a water base," Draco reciprocated the favoritism by nearly always having the right answer. "But water, being comprised of two parts Hydrogen and one part Oxygen, has a Hydrogen count that would neutralize the active ingredients of the solution." He sent a superior smirk toward the Gryffindor half of the room before concluding, "Kuschman's Water Substitute was developed twenty years after the potion, by Theodore Kuschman, Alfred Kuschman's son. Before that the Dreamless Sleep Potion was just a theory."

"Fifteen Points to Slytherin, you obviously did more than the required class preparatory research." Snape was not pleased for long.

"Almost done there," Hermione asked as she added the powdered Lobster claws, and stewed over the fact that her extra research was never given credit.

"Ya, just a sec… ok done." He handed over the Rocktripe and waited patiently to receive his next order.

~

As it turned out the Lobster claws had been too finely ground but Hermione had saved the potion anyway. The saving of their potion had taken a long time though and Hermione was stressing out again. 

__

'She isn't racing everyone else to try and finish before them, she's just racing herself and trying to finish before her personal time limit runs out.' Neville was trying to help by handing her what she asked for, when she asked for it. 

"Neville?" she was getting slightly frazzled, "Neville, where are the whole Moon Snail shells?"

__

'Oops!' "Sorry Hermione, I'll get them now," he headed back toward the cabinet. As Neville walked away he turned back to ask how many snail shells they would need, "**NO**!" he shouted and raised his hand like he could stop the catastrophe in mid motion. 

Everything went kind of slow and fast at the same time. A bolt of white flame shot out from his fingertips and incinerated the Bloodworms as they fell from the spoon into the cauldron. There was a slight ozone smell to the air, like just before a lightning strike. Every pair of eyes was staring at Neville, as he numbly lowered his hand.

Hermione looked down and saw that she had, while checking her notes, picked up the wrong spoon. Instead of an eighth of a gram of Bloodworms she had been adding a half-gram. Pale and faint she let the measuring spoon fall to the floor. The tiny clatter made everyone jump.

"That will be fifty Points from Gryffindor," Snape's voice was strained, "for trying to kill everyone in the room." Licking his lips the Potion Master took another breath, he turned to Neville, "And twenty Points to Gryffindor for saving our arses. I want to see you after class, Mister Longbottom, the rest of you are dismissed." 

~

Neville tried to sit still on the stone bench as he waited. Snape had left him outside the Headmaster's office, _'I wonder how much detention using Unframed Magic, without permission, is worth. I hope it's not worth expulsion, Professor Snape seemed mad enough to throw me out.'_

Hurried footsteps sounded on the revolving stairwell. A moment later Professor Moody was at the door, ignoring Neville, she knocked once and walked in.

__

'Well,' Neville thought with a strong foreboding, _'at least now I know where she is. Small comfort there. Could the unframed Magic have ruined some of the Potion supplies the way Framed Magic would?'_

~

"Neville?" The Headmaster smiled from the open door. "Would you be so kind as to join us?"

Neville jerked out of his thoughts, he took a seat on the plush sofa that the Headmaster indicated and he took a Lemondrop when offered. "Professor Dumbledore, sir?" He stammered as the elderly man was situating himself on a floral settee, "I'm late for Herbology now, sir." A hand clamped onto his shoulder from behind,

"He has enough, it would appear," Professor Snape pronounced without letting go of Neville. "I don't like it Sir, but unless you suddenly care about my arguments…" the Headmaster did not move a millimetre, "I'll do it anyway then." 

"Thank you Severus," Dumbledore sounded relieved, "I think you should start tonight. Mister Longbottom, Herbology can wait a few minutes but Potions can not. Severus, Severa, you are dismissed." 

The two nodded and left.

"Neville," the Headmaster smiled benevolently, "do you know what happened in Potions today?"

~

As they were nearing the door to the Potions classroom, the female held her hand out, just far enough, so that the male caught it at he edge of his vision. He slowed and she came alongside.

"I can take this, if you want," she offered with a nod to the room full of expectant students.

He shrugged agreement and headed past the classroom, toward the lab. "Think we'll make dinner?"

She walked with him a little ways further, "The Dark Lord called them yesterday, I think we're fine for a few days."

He shook his head, "Someone will die," he whispered as he left her to teach the class. "He knows something, and I will be forced to kill again."

She let him go they would both end up killing again, soon, and they both knew it. "Ten points for being obnoxious Miss Pool. Today you will be brewing a Lysander's Growth Inhibitor, can anyone tell me why one would wish to do such a thing?" 

~

A knock at the door announced the Gryffindor's arrival, "Come in Mister Longbottom, no sense making us later for dinner than I expect we will be anyway." The male rubbed at his eyes and the candles dimmed slightly.

As Neville stepped in to the Magical Self-defense classroom he started, "Professor Moody, I hadn't expected…" he looked down at his feet suddenly very sure that he was getting himself in more trouble.

The pseudo-Snape shrugged out of his robes and draped them over a chair. Stepping onto the mat he crossed his arms over his chest, "Mister Longbottom, I assume that the Headmaster told you more than simply what happened this morning." He cocked an eyebrow and waited. _'The boy looks pale, I'll have to try and tone down the acid or he'll freak and we'll have another accident.'_

Neville tugged at the top clasp on his robe. Not unfastening it, just nervously tugging, "Sir, he said that if I didn't get proper training on how to control it, I would end up hurting someone. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"So you brave your worst fear in coming here and facing me just to save the innocent? Typical Gryffindor brashness," he curled his lip in disgust and walked to the far side of the mat. "Well? You are wearing something under that aren't you," he indicated Neville's robes.

"Yes, Sir." Jerkily Neville tugged his standard issue student robe off and draped it across an empty chair to the left of Snape's. He was not wearing his Gryffindor uniform; instead he had on what would have looked very like a Muggle Fencing uniform, if anyone present knew what one looked like. 

He couldn't get his shock back beneath the surface before Neville turned back to face him. Almost taking a step, forward or back he wasn't sure, he forced the memories down. The female gave him a concerned look but did nothing more than symbolically box Neville in, setting her robe on the chair to the left of his robe. If he spoke he knew it would sound wrong, his throat was too tight, remaining silent he waited for the female to do something.

"Here," she pushed a pair of Dragonhide gloves at Neville, "These will be a part of your uniform, until you are able to control your power."

"My uniform?" Neville repeated.

She fluidly dropped to sit cross legged on the mat, "Yes Mister Longbottom, your uniform. The one you wear every day… now includes a pair of gloves." 

He put on the left glove without looking, but feeling his finger tips brushing bare skin he looked down.

"Well," she smiled bitterly, "A pair of half gloves if you want to get technical. You will wear hem at all times, until you are fully trained."

"You see Mister Longbottom," the male took over, "as the Headmaster has no doubt told you, most Wizards can only use Magic when it is framed by the limitations that a chant or hand motion create. Rarely, a Wizard is of pure enough blood that he can use Magic without those..." 

"Fences," the female offered, "safety lines, boundaries, walls-"

"You have, for whatever reason, a rare strength. And we will teach you to control it-"

"To protect others,"

"As well as yourself."

Neville turned his attention from one to the other as they began to speak for each other. It was clearly confusing him, but that was the point. The male pulled at one of his own half-gloves, _'Walks in here thinking he knows exactly what to expect, Hell on Earth, if only it could be that simple.'_

"I," the female drew the boy's attention again, "will be your sparring partner and demonstration model, he will be your coach and guide. Night study will not be feasible, we will need to work out a better schedule. Before dinner though, you need to learn one lesson."

When she fell silent Neville turned to 'Snape' expecting further comment. The male though simply raised his right hand and fired a bolt of blue-white lightning at the seated figure. Neville fell back in shock, but the charge was deflected with a mere defensive movement of one hand.

Too stunned to say anything Neville took another step back.

"That was an unchecked charge," The male spoke softly and without emotion or tone. "Elemental charges are easier to handle, but I could just as easily throw a spell. You are not that strong, but you are still dangerous."

"How strong are you?"

The question was unexpected and the male thought for a moment before answering, "I am the living end."

Neville blinked waited then turned hopefully toward the imposter Professor Moody.

She smiled ghostily, "I am the bastard child of the Apocalypse and Armageddon. You however, are a sixteen year old boy with stronger than average blood." 

~

They worked for another half-hour. Getting Neville to duplicate his show from that morning was harder than he had thought it would be. Finally though he was able to get Neville to, almost reliably, fire off a weak charge that took the form of a small ball of orange flames.

__

'The easiest possible thing he could do,' the male rolled his blue-black eyes behind the hair that kept falling in the way. "Now," he said taking a more open stance than he was normally comfortable with, "come here you will need to be close to see what happens."

Reluctantly, Neville moved closer. The male lost patients with the whole hesitation bit that Neville seemed to have going, and just grabbed his sleeve and yanked him in against his chest. 

Now, with the boy standing with his back to his chest, the male leaned forward slightly, "Watch closely." Raising his right hand he built a fire charge very slowly. 

A warm glow began to concentrate around his fingertips. It was pale and dim but gradually the glow became tiny flames that danced in spheres, nearly touching his skin. The light built to a critical point, the small orbs joined into one larger ball that flew from his hand in a single bolt of white flame, exactly like the one Neville had loosed in class.

"It all happens very quickly," he spoke softly by Neville's ear, "and if you want to interrupt the chain reaction the only chance you have, is when the energy is being gathered."

It felt like the female had reflected the bolt of fire back on him when the pain hit. He closed his jaw so quickly he caught his tongue and pierced it with an incisor. The air left his lungs and wouldn't come back he curled inward and caught Neville to his chest. 

Neville panicked. The female was pulling him away from the boy and then the darkness took him back. He did not have a last thought, the pain was too great.

~

__

'I'm on his bed,' Snape thought again. 

It didn't make sense yet. He knew how it happened, the summons coming while he was walking down the hall with Professor Moody, the apparation to the Dark Lord's chateau (formerly the finest chateau that Lucious owned, on the continent of course) and being escorted down a hall by Wormtail. But being nearly naked in Voldemort's bed still didn't quite make sense.

And all Voldemort had been doing, since he had gotten Snape in his bed, was stroke his back while they lay on their right sides facing away from the fire.


	32. A Dark Place

For a disclaimer randomly pick a chapter that has already been posted. 

I have had exaclty two people tell me that they wanted to continue the House Points, so I will. I'm easy to please when you tell me I'm good ;) But I couldn't get it done for this chapter and I couldn't figure a way to make it fair… so I'm now officially resuming the House Points contest. The House Cup is up for grabs!

He felt the breath on his shoulder as Voldemort leant forward. Snape hadn't been able to master Its reactions to every little move the Dark Lord made. They both knew that Voldemort could sense their struggle through the Dark Mark.

"You are s-so beautiful," Voldemort hissed in Snape's ear, one hand trailing down Snape's side, tracing each, too prominent, rib. 

His breath caught and a slight tremor slipped through his control and down his abdomen. He was sure Voldemort smiled at it. 

"You and Ss-severa, I was-s not ex-ss-pecting the two of you to look s-so alike…" Voldemort rose up on one elbow and ran one finger just under the band of Snape's boxers.

When Voldemort moved, he felt the fire light flicker across his back and tried to focus on that. Instead of the cool hand caressing his hip. The lisp in Voldemort's speech made it even harder to concentrate than the touching alone would have. 

"I thought fraternal twins-s were not s-suppos-s-ed to look alike." 

Snape recognized the tone Voldemort was using; he meant it as a question. "I would really rather not think about her right now," Snape tried to say it evenly, but his voice was not complying. 

"I was-s not thinking about her."

Voldemort's dry purr nearly made him flinch it was so intimate, "We do look unusually alike." His voice sounded harsh to his own ears. 

"Turn," Voldemort broke contact and moved back slightly to give Snape room to roll over. "Do you know what happens-s when you throw a live frog into a cauldron of boiling water?"

Snape rolled onto his stomach, drew his knees up some, and lay a little on his on his left side, but still mostly on his belly. "It gets burnt," the answer was spoken before he had time to think about the advisability of such an answer. He waited for a reaction, the macabre smile he got was not exactly what he would have liked, _'But it's not Cruciatus.'_

"The usual answer is-s, it hops-ss out," he ran the fingers of his left hand through Snape's hair and pushed it behind his ear. "You are s-still los-s-ing weight. Do you know what happens-ss if you put a live frog in a cauldron of cool water and gradually bring it to a boil?"

"No," Snape closed his eyes at the touch, "I'm not in to torturing animals."

"Are you shutting me out," Voldemort whispered to himself, "or shutting out everything else?" it was rhetorical and Snape waited silently. "The frog will acclimate to the heating water and allow it-ss-self to be boiled. If I took you now It would fight. You would be hurt."

__

'So It's being tamed?'

*Doesn't it hurt anyway?! Even if you don't fight or anything, doesn't it hurt the first time at least?*

"I have had a tas-s-k for you," Voldemort continued, "and I think very s-soon the time will be right. You will be allowed to choose your team, as usual, but I would like to s-sugges-s-t the addition of Lucious-ss Malfoy."

"I will do as you say Master, you have only to give a command." His eyes were still shut when Voldemort touched his lips in a surprisingly soft kiss. He gasped and felt a jerking-back somewhere inside, then, It was gone. 

~

Fully clothed, mask and hood in place, kneeling on the floor at Voldemort's feet Snape waited for formal dismissal. A hand rested on his head, the words were spoken, "Go, and do my bidding." And he left.

~

In a hollow in a forest Snape called three Chimeras to him. When they apparated he made them wait in silence for several minutes, just to make a point. 

Chimera was the title for the controller of four cell groups. The cell groups were made up of ten to fifteen members, and it was these cell group members that made the fighting troops of Voldemort's army. They saw Voldemort only at the mass Dark Revels. 

The Chimeras organized attacks and acted on the orders of any member of The Fates that deigned to give them an order. They saw Voldemort on a more regular basis, and he knew their names. He even, occasionally, spoke to one or another of them. The Chimeras were also known for political (and physical) backstabbing and betrayal, constantly looking for some scrap of power to lord over each other. But they **were **driven to succeed.

The three men present did not know each other, but they all new Snape. His silk cloak made him incapable of being confused with anyone else.

Snape smiled thinly behind his mask, _'It will not be able to report to Albus until long after it is too late to do anything to stop us.'_ "The Dark Lord has devised a plan, you have been selected to ensure its success…"

~

"You will wait," Snape said, lazily indicating Lucious. 

The meeting was over, everyone knew their part. Lucious, though, was going to need some special attention.

With a slight bow of his head Lucious Malfoy stepped back into the scant light that the nearly full moon managed to cast into the clearing. The two other men disapparated quickly and silently. 

Those of any real rank, knew that Voldemort chose from among his Fates one to be his special favorite. Due to resent developments most assumed he had chosen Snape. Lucious had been a little too free with his criticism of the choice.

"I know that you have been seeking a place in the Fates," Snape began after the others had gone, "The Dark Lord has been seeking a replacement for one that fell while he was in exile. You are being given one chance." He stepped closer and with a flash of his hand knocked Lucious' mask to the ground. (A very dangerous move, even for a superior to make.) 

Lucious nearly stepped back in shock, but Malfoy's never retreat. One platinum brow arched, " I have heard that you were ill, is aggression a symptom of Potion Master's Rue?"

Snape removed his own mask and tucked it in a pocket. He advanced on the cocky blonde until their robes were brushing, the black stains in his black eyes were more than obvious. "You will beg for Cruciatus, before I am through with you."

Before Lucious could blink his silver-grey eyes, Snape was gone.

~

Still alone, Snape stepped through the door in to the sitting room he now shared with Professor Moody. Taking off his silk cloak he draped it over one arm and was nearly to his own bedroom door, before he noticed that she was sitting in the corner, reading, beside the empty fireplace.

"What have you done with my chair," he demanded in an almost playful tone.

Feet pulled up on the cushion beside her, she smirked gently without looking up from the book, "I wanted a small sofa, there's still one chair."

Tossing the cloak onto his bed, he came back into the sitting room and nudged her feet, until she moved them enough to give him room to sit. "How generous, leaving me half the furniture I had yesterday."

She looked up at that, "It is past midnight isn't it, must be more tired than I thought." She banished the book to one of the shelves that lined that corner of the room, "Is there anything you can tell me about?"

She meant it sincerely, he could see it in her dark eyes, but she had chosen the words too carefully, "You play the game very well, for a new recruit."

She smiled and turned to face him putting her back against the armrest on her side, "I had Moody to teach me to be cautious with my words, and Durmstrang to teach me caution with curiosity."

Weariness was washing over him. It was a combination of coming down from the tension of his meeting with Voldemort and the Plastijuice he had just taken. He could see the Plastijuice she took affecting her as well. He lay on his back, his head on the opposite armrest, so he could see her. His long legs stretched across her lap and hung over the armrest she was leaning against. 

He sighed and shook his head, "When I'm there, I feel the power of his words…"

She just let him talk; he would say nothing that should be kept close.

He lay his left arm across his stomach, and reached his right hand out to touch her shoulder, "When I come back, I remember the years I spent trying to find you. The years I told myself that they would pay for taking you from me. And The Dark Lord's words seem like, just a means to an end. But when I'm there…" he let his hand fall to his stomach and closed his eyes.

"And it doesn't matter that you're not homosexual?"

He didn't bother trying to find the strength to open his eyes, "He has cheated death many times. We must survive and we must be free of them. He has offered me the key to that survival. If all he wants in exchange is a warm body that won't put up much of a fight… then no, it doesn't matter."

~

She blinked blue eyes and tried to figure out why she had expected him to be there when she woke up. Getting up and stretching sore muscles, she looked around the empty sitting room and the disappointed expectation turned to a slight fear. _'I have no idea how we managed to stumble down to the dungeons while he was in such pain. And I don't have a clue how he held on long enough for Fenny to get him changed out of his uniform and into a robe.'_ She was wandering back and forth between the few rooms they shared, small kitchenette, a more private office, a room absolutely crammed with shelves of books that would never be allowed even in the Restricted Section of the school library. _'He couldn't have gone far. Alastor said he had taken four days to recover the first time Voldemort had called him alone. And she wasn't called this time, so… where is he?'_

"Fenny?" she stepped into the hall and called again, "Fenny."

The little House Elf popped into being a few paces down the hall, "Oh, Yes Miss! What does Miss wish of Fenny?"

"Fenny, do you know where he is?"

The House Elf did not hesitate a moment over the fact that no name was given for the **him**. "Don't you know Miss?" she asked with a tilt of her head. "No," her ears flopped as she shook her head at her own question, "too soon, still too soon to be sure," she murmured to herself.

"Fenny," the female was trying to ignore the slight concern that was trying hard to become mild panic, "Do you, or do you not, know where he is?"

"Oh Miss!" the House Elf came back to herself with a squeal, "Fenny believes he is in Potions Classroom. That is where he has been going after meeting with the Evil Man."

She dashed down the passage and peripherally noticed that the hall was shorter than it should have been, as though it had been condensed somehow. The door opened before she reached it and a warm draft fluttered out to meet her.

He was there. Slumped in exhaustion not even trying to keep himself upright, he leaned into the fireplace, his shoulder against the stonework around it the only thing keeping him from falling in. 

Stepping carefully, to avoid starling him, her eyes went wide and the breath froze in her lungs.

The Expunge he kept was slowly weaving its way up a thread of tarry black sludge that he didn't have the strength to wipe from his mouth. Before it could reach him though, the Expunge's weight broke the gooey strand.

__

'He can't see me,' she knelt close by his side and waited for some reaction. None came. _'He doesn't hear me or even smell me. What was so important that he had to try and come back so soon?'_

Reaching out one hand she touched his shoulder. He made a whimpering sound, like a puppy might make in its sleep, there was no other reaction. She drew him to his feet. He didn't resist, but he didn't make the effort to move on his own. Walking by his side she pulled his left arm across her shoulders and wrapped her right arm around his back.

"I know you went to the classroom because you're sick," she was whispering softly because she knew he couldn't hear her anyway. "But you need to rest before you can come back." 

Her eyes were providing a pale blue light for them to stumble along by; his eyes were dark with shock. The hall was no longer the same one she had run down a few moments ago, but she was getting used to such changes.

Taking a moment to heave him higher up onto her shoulder she was rather surprised to look up and see Smeagol Lake. _'It was cool here last time, but the air is warm now so I guess we're heading in the right direction.'_

Glancing left then right and seeing no place to go, she stepped closer to the edge of the water. The rock ledge began to extend ahead of her so she stepped closer. It was a bit clumsy but she dragged him forward and the rocky projection became a low bridge. It extended a few steps ahead of her, so close to the water's surface that a large fish was able to jump across it behind them. 

As they neared the little island in the center of the lake her eyes went wide. The bare stone slabs that had made up the island were now covered in a thick multi-hued green moss. Two steps onto the mossy ground and she could feel that the bridge was gone.

Awkwardly she knelt with him and lay the male on his back. The moss gave off a fresh soft smell and he did not seem to notice. Squatting down on the balls of her feet she watched him breath for several minutes. 

Slowly he came through enough to roll onto his side and curl into a loose fetal position, then he went back to wherever he had been.

Settling into a crossed legged position she breathed a monologue into the silence of the chamber. "It is very strange being here. Alastor has told me stories about you for years. And about this school and the Headmaster, I feel like I know you but there is no substance to the feeling." 

The air was warming and a fog had started to develop on the surface of the cool black water. The phosphorescent blue and yellow light from the algae became a general glow that surrounded the tiny green island.

"Hogwarts is so much younger than Durmstrang, she is always moving and changing. I think that over the centuries Durmstrang has been poisoned by her Headmasters. Grigori is a good man, he is giving her the care and reform she needs to survive, but he is one man and most would rather pretend that Karkarov was the real Headmaster instead of just a pretty face for public relations." 

She explained the way Houses were divided and sorted in Durmstrang and she told him about her own sorting. "Alastor told me that you were sorted privately too." He was cold and shaking violently, throwing up had cost him greatly. The fog closed in and she lay down behind the male holding him tight. The warm air helped some but he was heading for a hypothermic reaction. She started another topic, randomly, "Before I got the letter from Alastor, the letter where he asked me to come here, I killed one of the members of the faculty. I was walking back from the Headmaster's sitting room, and Dimitri pulled her into a side passage. He covered her mouth and hexed her so she couldn't fight back. He was tearing at her shirt when I threw him with a kinetic charge. He drew his wand and shot a cutting curse at my throat, I cut his throat with my claws. He took a wet breath and the blood flowed out when he exhaled. They have probably found him by now." 

The shaking had become less severe and she took off her cloak and wrapped them both in it, "What was it that was so important that you had to crawl off down the hall half back from the void? Was it the summons from Voldemort to him that you interrupted that drove you back? Or was it something the Dark Lord did once you were there that did this to you? Alastor said you weren't able to come back for over half a week once. Why are you trying so hard to come back so soon this time?" 

Three hours later she had one answer.

"Longbottom," the male's voice was a crackling whisper, "We need to finish the lesson."

He struggled to get up, she struggled to get him to his feet. They both tried to cross the bridge back to the shore with a minimum of obvious help on her part. 

Again the passages redirected themselves until they were at the Potions Masters' private quarters. Fenny appeared, she had been expecting them to come back soon. The small House Elf took over once the female had lain the male on the deep green comforter on his bed. She left the two of them so she could change into her Potions robes. 

It was nearly five a.m.

~

"Neville," a voice whispered in the predawn darkness of the Fifth year boys' dorm. "Neville you need to get up now."

Slowly coming awake, the boy rolled over, "Professor Lupin?" he groggily whispered back, "What?"

"Come on," he pulled the Gryffindor-red bed drapes open more. "I have no idea why, but Snape saw fit to get up at this ungodly hour, and he wants you to get into some sort of practice uniform. He said you would know what was expected."

It took a while for Neville to wake up, but he got dressed quickly enough. Remus led the way through the Portrait door and into the hall where a figure in black was waiting, leaning against the wall.

She heard them before they even opened the hidden door, but didn't bother to lift her head for a few beats. Suddenly lifting her dark blue eyes to Neville's face not quite meeting his eyes, out of habit. She felt his brief confusion, _'He was thinking of the same person as the first time we met. Who did he think I was, that's the real question now.'_ "Mister Longbottom."

"Professor Moody!" His voice reinforced her impression that he was expecting someone else.

"Now that that has been established," she moved away from the wall and headed down the corridor, "Your lesson was interrupted last night, we will endeavor to complete it today." 

Lupin was following them. His footfalls were nearly silent, but nearly wasn't good enough. _'Alastor said, never do a thing half way, he was right,'_ She remembered his gruff voice,_ '"when a thing is done or untried it can't touch you. But a thing left in the middle has two ends to get you with," Lupin puts too much faith in his silence.'_ The female smiled faintly at the memory, one of the happier memories from her days at Durmstrang. 


	33. Fire Water Would?

There are probably characters here (in the fic in general) that you don't recognize. That would be because this is an AU and I have not had access to regular television for almost three years… so all of my information is old. I also read a lot and there are pieces from different books I've read. Lastly I have invented a few of the characters and those are mine. I'm not going to list them because if I miss one then it's a problem. (they get jealous) 

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Gryffindor-40 Points- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

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Slytherin-110 Points- Book Of Days, is awarded 10 points for cleverly catching onto the fact that I had purposely misspelled Lucius' name as a test for my readers… Really! It was on purpose…; RivanKnight is awarded 10 Points for expertise in the use of a Foe Glass; BookEater is awarded 10 points for an impressive scroll on unconventional applications for Invisibility Potions;

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Ravenclaw- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

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Huffelpuff- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 33: 

Telling Lupin to go away would have turned the whole thing into a bigger deal than it was. The door to the Self Defense class opened as she approached and she was relieved to see the male standing a little more comfortably, in the center of the mat, than he had been when she had left him. _'He won't last an hour though,'_ she felt a twinge of concern twist through her. _'That's another thing, why am I so concerned about him? My first priority is **her**, not someone I just met… someone I know without having met before…'_

A little unsettled at having Professor Lupin take a seat, apparently to watch the lesson, Neville was having more trouble firing the energy bolt he had nearly mastered last time.

The male kept his eyes down and spoke softly. He didn't have the strength to make his comments as painful as the real Snape would have. "Mister Longbottom," he sighed and put out a hand to push Neville's down. "Why are you purposely failing Potions?"

Neville paled, "Sir?"

"Can you really fear me so much that you would hurt your own future because of me?"

"I-" Neville looked around quickly, as though looking for escape. "I don-" his hazel-blue eyes stopped on the male's midnight-blue eyes. "Why," he croaked around surprise, shock, and fear.

"I know your secret," the male whispered stepping forward carefully. "Now you know mine." He didn't blink, neither did the entranced boy.

She wondered, briefly, at the wisdom of revealing themselves to someone who was not even a member of the Order, _'But then, why am I already accepting his decision? I'm vulnerable now and I'm just sitting here beginning to shrug this off as a strategic move.'_

Neville swallowed, hard, and took a breath, "My grandmother said that my father was good with Potions, I just don't want to remind her of him every time she gets a report on my grades."

"Mister Longbottom," the female called, forcing the boy to turn and face her, with his back to the male. "I have heard of the work your father did as an Auror. Any remembrance of him that you could bring your grandmother would ease her pain." Over the Gryffindor's shoulder she could see the male giving her a cut-and-run signal with the down turn of his head and shrug of one shoulder. _'What do you want me to do?!'_ she projected the panicked cry with a slight lift of one eyebrow.

The male slanted a question into the silence that followed the female's blundered statement, "You already knew that I existed. How?"

Neville took a few steps back. 

__

'He's figured out our trick,' the female sent the male an appreciative nod,_ 'Standing between us was not a good idea. With the extra distance though, he can now see us both without turning around. Clever boy.'_

"Harry was talking to Ron and Hermione. He said that there was something-strange going on with you. The Headmaster told him about it, er, you when Harry's godfather falling and professor Lupin thought he was dead…" Standing in his white, padded uniform, Neville had actually relaxed as he spoke. "What should I call you, sir?"

The male took a slow deep breath, processed the information he was getting about the emotional and physical reactions of the people in the room, and nodded slightly. " You were not alarmed to hear that Sirius Black was in the building?"

Neville kicked lightly at the firm mat, "A few years ago, I heard Harry talking to Hermi and Ron about Mister Black being innocent. They didn't notice me. Nobody does." Gathering his courage Neville asked with more strength, "Sir, what should I call you?"

The male flinch, she saw it. He didn't flinch badly, the Werewolf hadn't even been able to see it. But he did flinch.

"I guess you could just call me Snape. You always have."

And all the time Remus Lupin watched from a chair near the door at the darkened end of the room.

~

Neville was able to interrupt the building charge with a great deal more ease than he had learned to create the charge in the first place. But going to breakfast was harder than it had ever been. 

He raced up to Gryffindor tower, as the other Gryffindors were coming down for their morning meal. 

__

'He knows,' it kept spinning through his head, the knowledge that he had been caught. _'I can't believe everyone expects me to just act like normal when I have to wear these gloves,'_ he slammed into his shared dorm room and quickly swapped his training costume for the school uniform. 

__

At least Professor McGonagall excused me from dinner last night.' He raced down a staircase that decided to change its bottom landing when he was half way down. _'But, that was because the lesson was interrupted and I was still a danger.'_

He slowed enough to manage a slightly rushed, entrance to the dinning hall. Sitting down in the empty seat at one corner of the table he was only a few moments late, and most of the other students were still filling their plates.

He made it through most of Herbology (his second class of the day) before anyone noticed his gloves. 

"Uh," he stammered, flashing a nervous grin, "I thought they were cool." _'I can't believe I just said that.'_ Neville mentally smacked himself.

Seamus grinned conspiratorially, "You sure they're not a gift from your gran?"

__

'I can't believe I just got away with saying that!' Neville tried to give a longsuffering look while he ducked his head. He tried to focus on the Tantalus Lilly he was supposed to be transplanting. _'Sorry grandmother, I just can't take standing out anymore than I already do. You'd understand, right?'_ he snorted at his hopeless plea, _'Ya, right, shirking the truth to protect my own, nearly invisible, status with the other Gryffindors would be just fine with her.'_

Because Neville was notorious for violent Potions related accidents, a rumor which ended with him accidentally saving the day (drawing his wand and botching a spell) was widely accepted. Neville was saved any curiosity or extra attention that would have followed if everyone knew he had done it on purpose. 

~

Snape vaguely remembered getting up from the couch to throw up. Then the next thing he knew, he was being fussed over by that ridiculous House Elf that seemed to make it her personal mission in life to be the mother he never had. 

__

'No,' he mentally lashed out at the disloyal thought,_ 'I can't keep falling back into the lies they planted in my mind.' '_He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands for a moment. _'I need to keep things straight, now more than ever.'_

~

First period was not pleasant for anyone. Snape hadn't gotten enough sleep for far too long, and Professor Moody was absent. She was covering Lupin's classes. Because he wasn't taking the Wolfsbane Potion he was too tired and too emotional to teach. 

The full moon was coming tomorrow night.

Sitting at his desk after the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had fled, he did not relax his control, exactly, he just closed his blacker than ever eyes and focused on finding out what was wrong. 

Deep inside, It, had been quiet almost nonexistent. Since Voldemort's touch he hadn't heard from It, at all. _'Not even the usual warnings about people behind me, or some disaster about to happen. I have grown dependant on It. My very reputation is based on the warnings and hints It gives me… what will I do once It is gone?'_

Despair, resignation, a warning that would go unheard and unheeded but was told anyway, _*You will no longer represent an unattainable thing for the Dark Lord to lust after. You will be cast aside as you cast me aside.* _

The inner voice was weak and projected feelings more than the actual words it usually used, but Snape understood.

Longing for something that would never be granted, and acceptance of the hopelessness of asking again, _*Please… all I desire is to end this struggle. Can you really think you will be better off… without me? Have you been better so far?*_

~

Late for lunch, Snape tried to ignore the soreness in his stomach muscles. He hadn't exactly thrown up, there hadn't been anything after the first few heaves, but then he had taken the Plastijuice and gotten sick all over again. 

He almost froze when he saw her there, sitting one seat from the end of the table. _'Saving me the seat furthest from anyone else.'_ He gratefully took the place she had reserved for him and sent her a look of thanks with his black eyes.

Amazingly, his stomach was not rejecting the food today. He didn't feel in top condition by any means but he wasn't rushing out to find a safe place to vomit until he passed out.

"The light is bothering your eyes." She did not turn to face him as she spoke. She didn't even slow the spoon of chicken broth on its way to her mouth.

"I've been in the dungeons all day," he winced slightly and looked away from the cloudless sky that the ceiling showed. 

"And it is quite bright in here," she took a sip of wine from a goblet that looked exactly like his. "In class, Miss Granger felt the need to correct me for calling it the Dark Arts."

He caught the sparkle of her ebony eyes as she glanced at him, "You didn't," he whispered back while taking a bite of his roll.

@---'---,-----------------

As usual, no one heard Neville when he asked for the salt. 

"I can't decide which would be worse," Ron said with another glance at the Head Table, "The idea that they're related or the idea that there could be more than one Snape out there."

Because of their, more than obvious, similarities in look and temperament most students believed the rumors that the Co-Heads of Slytherin were in fact cousins.

"Ron," Neville spoke a little louder and tried to get the redhead's attention, "Ron the salt, beside your elbow, can I have it plea-"

"What?" 

Ron finally heard him, but then turned and knocked the salt to the floor. "Never mind," Neville sighed and pushed his chair back to try and see where the shaker had gone. Aidan made a joke and Ron turned to laugh with him, kicking the salt shaker as he did so. _'Great, I can't get the salt while it's under some Ravenclaw's chair.'_ Briefly he contemplated using his wand to Accio it over, _'But it would be my luck to explode **that** on accident.'_ Which brought to mind the strange talk he had had that morning with the guy that was impersonating Professor Snape, _'But the Headmaster and Professor Lupin and Professor Moody and Harry, Ron and Hermione, just about everyone knows about it, so is it really an impersonation?'_

A few girls gave him funny, nerve wracking, looks like the one Hermione had given him the day before. No one mentioned the gloves he wore, Seamus made sure they all knew about the gift from his grandmother. 

Care of magical creatures went pretty well. Neville had what Professor Hagrid called, a way wit them critters. Or at least he had suddenly developed it over the resent summer break. 

~

Friday morning Neville was not woken by Professor Lupin, the Werewolf would be in no condition to do much more than sleep today. Instead a small, yet very annoying, tone sounded in his ear. A charm had successfully been put on his pillow the night before. _'After the first four started to squawk. Stupid down-feather pillows.'_

By special order he had not taken off his gloves since that first lesson. Not to put on other gloves for Potions or Care of Magical Creatures, '_Or for a shower or to sleep or anything, just like he said'_

Without tripping on Ron's new (first hand new at that) broom. Which he insisted some Slytherin would jinx if given the chance. And they most likely would have too, but he only let it out of sight to attend classes or meals.

Shaking his head at the Quidditch obsession that most of his housemates had, Neville opened and closed the portrait so softly that the Fat Lady only stirred slightly in her sleep. With the Daily Prophet claiming that Sirius Black had been sighted in Jamaica two days ago, no one was overly concerned about safety. 

__

'Except Filch,' Neville had stifled a laugh, but not well enough. The creepy Keeper of the Keys seemed to jump out of thin air like a House Elf. 

"An' What 'ud we 'ave 'ere my Sweet? A nice little Gryffindor out a'fore curfew is up?" Filch took in the bit of clothing that the open neck of Neville's half-closed robe allowed. "So," he grinned like a skull, "Yer the one 'e tol' me ta watch fer? Well better ta get along then, 'e don't wait patient like."

Mrs. Norris kept running ahead then back to Filch's side, Neville almost trampled on her tail during one pass. Filch grabbed his shoulder and jerked him to the side so that his foot just missed.

With two escorts Neville made it to the right room by a rout he had not known and probably wouldn't find again. 

As before, Professor Lupin was sitting near the door watching, a good deal more tired than he had been the day before, but still watchful. The woman with Blue eyes who seemed to fill in for Professor Moody sometimes was standing inside the barrier around the mat. 

"Mister Longbottom," the man with the blue eyes had been leaning against the wall beside the door. At his soft, greeting, Neville jumped.

"Sir," he said turning to face the man.

He stepped away from the wall. Heading toward the mat he called back, "You can call me Snape you know, it doesn't matter as much as you think it does."

They started the lesson quickly. The woman, who said that he could call her Professor Moody, walked in slow laps across the mat. Neville alternately tried to shoot bolts, block her own shots or interrupt his charge before it could be sent.

"Now try a water charge," the other Snape said. He was sounding tired, like this was hard on him.

Neville tried thinking **water** while building a charge, but it came out as a bright orange flame. He tried willing it to be water, tried changing his stance and then his hand movement. Nothing worked. 

"It is water," came his instructor's quiet explanation. "It doesn't need to change, you can't change it anyway. It just **is** water."

"what do you mean?" Neville was sweating and tired from trying so hard, "It's a fire. How is it water?"

"You blocked Mister Malfoy's hex, do you remember how?"

It suddenly made sense, _'But could it really be that simple? It just **is**…'_ Neville took a deep breath and raised his right hand toward the woman. _'Well, if it already is, then I can't go wrong.'_ The recoil knocked him flat on his back.

Opening his eyes slowly the first thing he saw was the man standing at his head and looking straight down at him.

"A water charge is less dangerous to others than a fire charge. For obvious reasons. It also has more recoil, you need to work on your footing. Breakfast begins in five minutes, don't be late for Potions." Neville blinked and he was gone. Pushing himself up with an elbow he just glimpsed Professor Lupin heading out the door with the other man.

"Get dressed, get your breakfast, get to Potions don't kill anyone." The woman said. She threw him his robe and followed the two who had just left.

~

Sirius Black opened his door and smiled, "I've already put away my wand, I'm wearing a heavy robe, and a lighter layer underneath, I'm done eating and I think I'm ready now."

The female raised one brow at this announcement but stepped aside and let Black lead the way down the hall and into the main corridor.

"Is it really necessary to start this early?" Sirius asked once they were safely in the nonexistent stairwell. _'Apparently she has the ability to open it too.'_ The blue shine from her eyes seemed to catch only the next step and the bit of wall closest to Sirius' shoulder.

"At this time of year the moon rises before the sun has set," the female quietly answered Black's question. " The lack of congruency between the time when the sun sets and the moon rises makes the shift more… problematic. We need to start early or he will not be able to cooperate." 

Sirius tried to shake off the deja vu sensation. After a few more steps the female reached around him and opened a door. _'She opened it sooner than the male did when I fell. I know it's Magic, but what kind of Magic is it that makes the whole place respond to them like this?'_

The lab was cold; Sirius was prepared this time and he silently congratulated himself. Remus was already, obviously, not in a good mood. Sirius cautiously took the stool that had been set aside for his use. '_Right beside the slab. Where I'm within easy reach of an increasingly aggressive Werewolf…'_

This was the worst part. The part he had not been able to stomach when they were kids. Seeing Remus loose his mind. He wasn't really worried for his own safety, _'But what if, this time, Remus can't find his way back? It happens sometimes. A Were who's gone through a particularly bad shift. Sometimes they just, can't find their way back from the wild that takes over.'_

The male had been saying something to Remus, but stopped when Sirius and the female entered. Lupin seemed inclined to pursue it though.

"So," Remus' voice was harsh and there was a gleam to his amber eyes that brought to mind the old legends of Moon Madness. "Does Snape know you're screwing her too?"


	34. Cutters

HP AU Not all is mine. Not all is JKR's. I'm borrowing from H. G. Welles, The Matrix, Forever Knight, Neverwhere, The Labyrinth, and some peoples' fanfics. When you read a lot it all goes somewhere! I make no money from this fic.

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Gryffindor-50 Points- Caprice earns 10 Points for enthusiasm on the subject of creative writing.

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Slytherin-120 Points- Bookofdays, is awarded 10 points for saying something worth listening to; RivanKnight is awarded 10 Points for taking meticulous notes in class; 

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Ravenclaw- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

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Huffelpuff- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 34:

Turning to face the male when Remus' question came, Sirius fell off and managed to get his feet tangled with the steel legs of the stool. He cried out, this time as he fell, but no one heard. Hurting pretty good, he couldn't find the breath to try and plead with the male, _'Remus is Moon Struck, he didn't really mean it! Ow-ow-ow-ouch.'_

"I'm not screwing anyone," the male set down the vial he had been studying, "Where would you get that-" 

Sirius cringed when the male's strange blue eye fixed on him.

"You told him, that I'm…" he shook his greasy black head and went back to comparing vials of apparently identical purple fluid. "Lupin, I told you, you were right before."

Finally back on top of the stool, Sirius tried to remember something that Remus had been right about.

"Where do you think I got my nickname?" he handed the pair of vials to the female and she looked them over carefully. 

She muttered under her breath, "You don't get a name like Necro because you like a challenge," and handed him back the left one.

That broke through the fog in Remus' head, "No woman alive would have him," he echoed his own words from nearly a month ago.

"Just about ready to start," the female said while pulling on a pair of the disposable gloves. 

"But," Sirius could hardly hear himself saying the words, "But we were talking to Snape-"_' Holy Merlin… "I don't exactly have a name, I guess you could just call me Snape. You always have." But… what does that mean?'_

"I saw his eyes," Remus dazedly followed the female's urging and lay back on the slab.

The male gathered the last few pieces of equipment they would need and set them on a tray beside Remus on the slab. "I'm not into pedophilia or bestiality or sadomasochism or bondage, and I'm not a necrophile." He snapped on one glove while thinking about his next words. "But I am named what I am named, for a reason." Snapping on the second glove he looked into Sirius' eyes.

Sirius realized, after a moment, that it was the first time he had actually done more than just check to see if the eyes were blue or black. _'He looks so much like Snape,'_ for the first time it really hit him. Then Sirius realized that it was also the first time the male had not avoided his eyes, and he suddenly knew why. 

~

The Founders' stable was exactly as before, except this time it was rot iron with a stained glass top. Along the table's legs and crosspieces there were intricate openwork representations of the Order. The four chairs were of a similar rot iron design, but the legs and backs of the chairs bore images based upon qualities of the House each represented.

It was late Sunday night, and they were waiting for the Slytherin House representative to arrive. He was late. The first time he had ever been late, and no one was comfortable with the possible explanations that were occurring to him or her.

Albus stood, "I am going to find him." On hearing his tone, Alastor and Rita's objections died unspoken. 

He walked away from the table and the room seemed to dissolve around him, reforming itself into the shape of his Official Office. There was no sign of the Order of the Phoenix's meeting place. No sign that Rita Skeeter and Alastor Moody were a few steps away, in any given direction. More importantly, there was no sign of the missing member of their circle.

It hadn't been a question, by any means, of whether or not Albus could find him. If he were on the school grounds all it would take would be the opening of any door to the outside. If he were in the school herself, the halls would be redirected. But the fact that could not be avoided was that it would take some time.

~

"He isn't on the grounds or in the school," Albus sat heavily in the Gryffindor chair. Above his head, on the chair's back, a male lion stood protectively before his mate and cubs. It soundlessly snarled a threat against the hunter who was holding a spear at the ready.

"And Severa," Alastor suggested.

Albus shook his head.

"She mentioned his being certain that something was up." Alastor suddenly hit the glass table top with his fist. It didn't break of course, but it should have. "A dark servant on a dark errand for a Dark Lord."

"Alastor, please!" Dumbledore's voice was strained.

The retired Auror stood to his feet and leaned forward, hands flat on the table, "If you are this torn up about sending him back now, what are you going to do when he comes back like he did before? Twitching from Cruciatus and crying out silently because his vocal cords were too mangled to scream. Or are you afraid he will turn on you the way Sna-"

"Moody," Rita glared the man straight in the eye, as no Death Eater had ever dared. She smoothed her surprisingly tasteful evening gown, "I am late for the opera. As he is obviously not coming to the meeting, contact me when he is recovered enough to try this again." As she stepped from the light around the table and into the shifting obscurity of the shadows she took a moment to give Albus a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. 

Albus' eyes were not twinkling. 

As they exited the Official Office, Alastor suggested that they check on Remus again. (His version of an apology involved not pursuing, further, the thing that had started the argument.)

Albus nodded, "He was sleeping the last time I went down," they understood each other well. "Maybe Severa can spare a few moments to update us on his condition. And I know you are concerned for her as well."

"She is not suffering as much as he is. But then she is not fighting back nearly as hard as he is. So how did it go?" Alastor asked changing the subject and trying to forget that his voice had nearly cracked. "Do they know if the serum worked the way they expected, or will it take more time to make an evaluation?" As they gained the base of the moving stair and waited a moment for the Gargoyle to move Albus reached out to touch his friend's shoulder. 

"He said that it would take three months to be sure," Albus adjusted his glasses. A sign of the extremity of his concern for the missing blue eyed fraud, "He actually tried to explain it to me," he forced a lighter tone, "but I was always far better at Transfigurations than Potions I'm afraid. He said it was a sort of paradigm shift, from the way that the problem has been looked at in the past."

"Meaning?" Alastor asked. Purposely ignoring the three figures under an invisibility cloak. They were obviously huddling close to a suit of armor in the hopes that the two men would not walk into them on accident. "I have heard," he spoke a little louder than necessary, if he were only talking to Albus that is, "That Sirius Black, has managed to get an interview with a Witness."

Albus suppressed a faint smile, "Really? Will the Ministry hear his case then do you think."

"I have heard rumors," Alastor's awkward gait would not normally have slowed his progress down the hall nearly as much as it did on this particular night. "Rumors that Fudge has been forced to actually give him a hearing, but that he has managed to speed up the claims process so that Black will need to show himself at the Ministry's Head Office tomorrow morning by eleven o'clock. Imagine the scene that'll make for the morning Porters heh?" 

Alastor managed to catch a Magical last glimpse of Harry's face as he and Albus began descending the stairs to the dungeons. Black had mentioned his frustration at not being, conscionably, able to tell his godson of the possibility of a pardon. One of the only items that they had been able to discuss without the Other there, was whether or not to tell Harry. It had been decided in the end, to tell Harry as soon as possible as little as possible while stressing the fact that it would be dangerous. Just incase something went wrong. They did not want Harry to find out about it at breakfast if Sirius were caught on the way to his hearing. 

The Potions classroom was hot poorly lit and not as empty as they had expected.

"Remus," Albus smiled weakly. "It is good to see you getting up and about so soon." 

@---'----,--------------

Harry Ron and Aidan had been charming all of the suits of armor to make insulting comments about the Slytherins that walked past, when the Gargoyle had moved aside and the Headmaster and Alastor Moody nearly walked into them. 

In the Closet now, Ron was trying to explain why it really was good news that Sirius Black was going to be cleared of all charges and convictions. Aidan might have been from a mixed marriage, but he had been raised in a Wizarding community. It took a great deal of persuasion to get him to believe that Sirius Black was not betrayal personified. 

Harry had been picked to wake Hermione and bring her down. At thirteen, Aidan was not willing to risk the bad press that getting caught would create among the second year girls that he was hoping were interested in him. 

The fifth year girls' dorm was minus one occupant in a very short period of time. Hermione was getting used to being surprised awake by an Enervate and a pair of Harry-green or Ron-blue eyes. 

The closet was still small. But it made room for everyone and the news was shared again.

"He'll get to see me play next weekend," Harry was in a daze.

"And you won't have to go back to Privet Drive for the summer," Hermione added gently. She shot Ron a look, he was sitting quietly instead of being as excited as he should have been, "What is it Ron? Is there something wrong?" 

"It's just that," Ron gave Harry a brave smile, "I mean the Headmaster has probably worked it all out so there's nothing to- He'll have to show up at the Ministry's Head Office Harry! Do you know what that means?" 

Harry just thought of the pain that he had felt when he had stepped back across the threshold of his aunt and uncle's home that spring. "What are you talking about?" He sounded like someone who knew that there were horrors yet to come.

"There are going to be Aurors and Dementors there waiting to catch him and probably some Death Eaters too." Ron looked away from his friend's green eyes, "I'm just saying, it'll be dangerous. That's all." 

"What on earth would Death Eaters want with my godfather? He's innocent." Harry's voice had lost all of the wonder and hope it had held.

Hermione also raised a questioning brow at Ron, "Yes Ron why would Death Eaters go? The Aurors I understand, they belong there. Much as we all know Fudge is just plain foolish for keeping them even the Dementors belong there too. But why would Death Eaters go to any place that they know will have a lot of Aurors?" 

"Well, they sure don't want it proved that he didn't kill Harry's parents and all those people," Ron blustered. "I mean if it is proved that he didn't, then the Ministry has to accept that there might be something to the Headmaster's claim that Pettigrew is alive and that he killed them. If they accept that, then there is going to be a lot of pressure to accept that you-know-who is really back."

"Ron," Hermione looked at him with surprise and approval. "That is perfectly logical. I'm impressed."

He blushed, straight up to his ears, and mumbled, "Well, I'm not just a pretty face, you know, I can play Chess, Quidditch, and think."

"Harry," Hermione she sounded more excited than there seemed cause for. (In Harry's opinion that is.) "Harry, didn't Sirius say that you wouldn't be able to see him for a while?" Three blank stares. "Come on guys! He said Harry couldn't see him. He should have said, 'I won't be seeing you for a few days,' or something like that. What if he's under the Fidelus charm?"

Harry brightened in an instant, "Of course! The Headmaster would do something like that, he could even be my godfather's secret keeper."

"We'll know for sure," Hermione beamed, "if the Headmaster doesn't come out for breakfast."

The meeting broke up soon after but Ron softly asked Hermione to wait a minute. Harry and Aidan said their goodnights and gave Ron suspiciously encouraging looks before heading up to their beds.

"Yes Ron," Hermione perched on the armrest of the nearest couch and waited.

Nervously Ron tried to say something at least three times before finally blurting, "WouldyoucometotheHalloweenBallwithme?!"

Hermione blinked, Ron blushed. Hermione worked to unscramble what he had said, Ron started to sweat. She smiled and softly said yes, Ron practically floated up to his dorm.

@--'----,------------------

"Remus," Albus smiled weakly. "It is good to see you getting up and about so soon." He turned d to his new Co-Head of Slytherin, "Professor Moody, how are you this fine night?"

"Severa," Alastor gave her a quick acknowledging nod.

She nodded in return, then went back to her cauldron. "Headmaster, it is rather late, is there something that you wished of me?" Her voice was cold and she did not even try to return Albus' smile.

"I was wondering how you have been adjusting to Hogwarts," he regained a form of his usual good humor as he added, "We have a morning staff meeting every week day you know. If you would like to meet the rest of the faculty-"

"If I wanted to meet them I would. Now if that is all," she poured one liter of Mellonrat blood into the simmering brew, causing it to turn a bright green before half of the cauldron's contents spontaneously evaporated. 

Albus was not the least bit put off, (Snape had gone through the same sort of self-protective aggression phase his first few months on the faculty.) "I expect that you must be finding Hogwarts to be quite different from Durmstrang…" he trailed the statement off into a question.

After a pause, which reminded Alastor of all the times he had given her lessons on how to craft an answer, she set the half empty cauldron on a lower heat and pulled up her protective goggles. "The biggest challenge that I have faced, aside from Heading a House for the first time, has been the schedule." She set aside her thick Dragonhide gloves. "At Durmstrang Potions classes were held before and after every meal. The only time it was warm enough to have the students work, was when the kitchens, in the next chamber over, were hot."

"The pre-breakfast and post-dinner classes must have been difficult," Albus said thoughtfully.

"They were," she shrugged and cast a quick glance back at the potion. "The castle moves a great deal more than I am used to as well," she added as an after thought.

Albus had been going to reply with some anecdote (about the Chamber of Chamberpots no doubt) when Hagrid's unmistakable tread began to echo down the stairs. Alastor and Remus fell silent as he neared, and his shouts became intelligible. 

The greasy hared Professor immediately cleared her notes from one of the lab tables, and with a swish of her wand, and a softly spoken charm, the stone table was pushed against the one behind it.

When Hagrid finally did burst into the room, he was thoroughly exhausted, and covered in blood. In his arms they could just make out the form of a very young Centaur. Without prompting he lay the badly injured and unconscious child on the improvised slab.

Most questions had to wait until he had regained his breath, he did pant responses to Miss Moody's sharp demands for information, but that was all. 

"Aye- 'e were jus'- ou'side the Leshy's clear-slearing. Nah, no-no one saw wh- wha' 'appened."

"Looks like knife wounds," she said after a moment. "The cuts are too clean for any sort of animal attack I've seen."

Hagrid shook his wooly head, he had his breath back now, "Nah, they were Stymphalian birds, Oi'm shur uv it. Oi 'eard a few 'ad escaped from a breeder, off South Puddle way."

"Stymphalian birds!" Remus jerked to his feet. He addressed the Headmaster with a great deal of concern obvious in his posture and eyes, "We need to get those out of the forest sir, I encountered a flock of them when I was traveling through Greece. They'll come out of the forest to attack the students."

"Yes, Remus," Albus made a calming gesture with his hands. "Rubeus, do you think that you could take care of this yourself?" 

"Nah sir," the half-Giant looked helplessly on as various potions and ointments were applied in the hopes of saving the youth's life. "Oi'd rether 'ave some 'elp." He turned beetle black eyes to Remus, "Ef you're up to it, Oi could use yer help sir, yeh know what they are an' all. Oi knows it's jus' two nights from the moon..."

"No," Lupin drew his wand and headed for the door. "I'm fine, and you're right, it would be too dangerous to go after them alone. Any idea how many there are?"

"Tell them that he'll live," Severa Moody's voice cut through the mild argument Dumbledore was putting up against Remus going. 

Albus knew it was smart to take a person already experienced with the creatures in question, he just wanted to be sure that Remus was fit, so soon after the passing of the full moon. As Hagrid had pointed out, it had been only two nights ago.

But," she added, "I couldn't do anything about his eyes. He's lost those, too completely." The potion she had been working on was forgotten as she worked to brew a version of Skel-o-grow that would work on non-Humans with an equine base. 

(A horse's leg bones are difficult to heal, being half equid Centaurs have the same problem. But because they are sentient and aware, their culture has developed many ways of diagnosing and treating broken bones. Simple hair-line fractures are well cared for with splints, ointments, and herbal compresses. Compound fractures, similar to those suffered by the little colt Under Severa Moody's care, would be treated with a ritualistic execution/mercy killing.) 

~

The Leshy's clearing was deserted. Nothing wanted to stay in an area that the savage, brass clawed and beaked, Stymphalian birds had claimed as theirs. Blood was pooled on the ground and splattered on the bushes where the attack had occurred. Remus checked for tracks, just to be sure. 

"Yep, Stymphalians alright." He looked up at Hagrid, "I think they went, that way," he pointed over Hagrid's right shoulder, and his blood ran cold.

Wands already drawn the two men went back to back and tried to ready themselves for what would come next. The Stymphalians had indeed gone in the direction Remus had indicated. They had then been promptly caged and Silencioed. It was a trap. 

The first curse was a cutter. (The usual type of wandless shielding can not stop a curse that acts as a physical attack.) It caught Hagrid in the thigh; he was the easier target because he could not see as well in the dark. The next (a heavy concussive pulse aimed at the new wound) brought him to his knees, exposing Lupin's back.


	35. Triptych

To the person who left only the handle, "me": You've read 34 chapters of the thing so you must not be too lost. *grin*

To the reviewer Milee… I don't know which House you're in. I can't even remember if you've told me. Please e- me back and I'll add your points to the right House. THIS IS THE ONLY SORT OF CASE WHERE I WILL GO BACK AND ADD POINTS. 

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Gryffindor-60 Points- Caprice earns 10 Points for having a strong stomach.

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Slytherin-140 Points- Bookofdays, is awarded 10 points for an impressive knowledge of nomenclature; RivanKnight is awarded 10 Points for doing homework in advance; 

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Ravenclaw- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

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Huffelpuff- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 35:

Harsh and slightly garbled voices called from the cover of the trees. The masks the Death Eaters wore filtered their voices, but Remus was able to tell where the voices were coming from. When Hagrid went down, he was faced with more than just an exposed flank. "Rubeus," Lupin shouted over the blood thundering in his ears. "We need to find some cover!"

Hagrid had trouble getting to his feet; Remus took a deep gash in his back while trying to help him. Even though Hagrid had been expelled from school well before graduation he had been able to learn, on his own, a few charms that protected against some of the more aggressive animals he had kept. He cast them as quickly as he could, and led the way into the clearing.

Together they established a mildly fortified position beside a few stacked boulders in the Leshy's clearing. (His favorite gaming table.) Side by side now, and able to work together, they fired at anything that moved.

Remus got a momentary glimpse of one of their attackers, a vague black flutter within the dark undergrowth of the forest. It was all he needed. Were reflexes came into play as he spoke a quick disarming spell. They were now down to three armed attackers.

An undeniably dark curse flared out, like a burst of deep purple light, and caught Hagrid in the stomach knocking him down. He writhed on the ground as his abdominal muscles tried to rip loose from the bones they were attached to. He couldn't breathe except in painful gasps while his diaphragm was between spasms.

Remus aimed his next few shots in the direction, from which the Dark curse had come, but failed to hit anything. The deep wound in his back was resealing rapidly, due to his Were healing factor. Another curse carved a path in the flesh of his lower back and side, as he cast a strong pain reducer on his friend. Without knowing what the spell had been, he could neither undo the curse nor stop it. The pain from the wounds Remus had received only served to heighten his Were-rage, and he managed to wound and disarm another of the Dark Wizards before they over powered him. 

~

Wandless, Remus fought to draw breath but blood was filling his lungs. The two Dark Wizards he had disarmed had dragged Hagrid out of his line of vision. He couldn't even turn his head to follow. Remus' amber eyes went wide as a tall thin figure, in black silk, stepped from the shadows. _'One of the Fates.'_ The Order had nearly been defeated before they had developed a team they called the Alicorn Warriors, but aside from that little bit, Remus knew only that Avada would not come soon enough.

~

There were many vacant seats at the Head Table for breakfast. 

Ron counted them off, to no one in particular. "The Headmaster, Mad Eye Moody, Professor Lupin, Hagrid…" 

Hermione leaned in and whispered to her two friends, "Do you think they're all on business for the Order?" She was skeptical and so were Harry and Ron. "I think we need to have a meeting, but not the Corsairs." She glanced to where Aidan was telling some Second Year girls about the Quidditch practice he had helped with. 

(Helping the star Seeker was also helping his own standing among the younger Gryffindors.)

Professors Snape and Moody came in late but actually made it to breakfast, at the same time, for the first time in over a week. Neville was the only one in the Dining Hall to notice that they both had, very dark, blue eyes.

Double Potions went as terribly as usual. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, many groans of certain doom were repressed as students filed in, to find that Professor Lupin was not teaching that day. Having Professor Moody instead, was more like having Snape twice. 

A study hall was the first time Harry, Ron, and Hermione had the chance to talk. They met at the back of the library, in a corner Miss Pince rarely went to, to shush students.

"They're not all involved in helping Sirius get to his retrial," Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration at Ron's suggestion that they were all in on the plan. "What would they all do? There just aren't enough things that need doing. If Sirius is under the Fidelus charm then, technically, only one person would be needed."

"No," Harry finally stepped in, "I think Hermi's right. My godfather would not want more people at risk than needed to be. Like you said Ron, there are real risks involved. If one person could hold the Fidelus charm, then he would have had only one person help."

"Ok," Ron nodded, "then where's everyone else?"

Hermione checked her 'imitation Muggle' watch again, "Guys we need to actually study if we can. If they're not back by lunch we can go ask Professor McGonagall. It's the most practical thing to do."

@--'---,-------------------- 

The Monday morning inter-city Apparition traffic was heavy and the local Broom commuters were crowding the streets from about second to fourth-story levels. As Mad-Eye Moody pushed his way into the Ministry building that housed the Wizards' Council it was obvious that a larger than usual number were also headed in that direction.

Sirius chuckled softly at the bitter irony of the whole situation. It felt very strange, to be in a room crowded with men and women who wanted him more than dead, and to have none of them even look in his direction. _'I'm following Alastor Moody, into the Wizengamot. Again. Only this time I'm doing it of my own will.'_

Alastor was walking with a deliberate slowness. He needed to allow Black time to dodge the people who would unknowingly walk right into him, and he needed to give the right impression. A retired Auror, coming to see if the only man he couldn't catch, would turn up for his retrial.

A tall Wizard in perfectly tailored deep green and black trimmed robes stepped in to their path. "Good morning Alastor." Lucius Malfoy's voice was polished, smooth as a scrying stone. "You wouldn't happen to be here to see the day's big event, would you?" He raised an amused, platinum blonde, brow.

Alastor kept walking, and Lucius had to step to the side to avoid being stepped on. "Yer quite a ways from your own department, Malfoy," he turned the statement into a challenge with a squint of his good eye. "I'm here to see that the bastard responsible for James and Lilly's deaths gets strung up with the rest of them damn Death Eatin' dogs."

Sirius glanced back at Lucius as they entered the same chamber where he had been sentenced before. "He looks tired," he murmured to Alastor. Sirius could not see it, but he was sure that Moody was checking behind them, and through several people, with his Magical eye.

Alastor merely nodded slightly, he couldn't afford to give away the fact that someone was there that could not be seen. Dementors would not be fooled by a Fidelus charm, if they **knew** Black was present. Judging by the chill and dread he was beginning to feel Dementors were going to be something they would need to deal with after all.

Sirius' throat was getting tight, "There are Dementors here." Again Alastor nodded, as though greeting someone. "I'm thinking this was a bad idea." He could tell he was starting to panic, but this was a good time to panic. The Dementors would be drawn to his suffering, Albus had said, but would not be able to pinpoint his location. All he could think of though, were the years of near insanity while in their keep.

Alastor had glanced back in time to see Lucius Malfoy take a slightly deeper than necessary be breath. _'An attempt at hiding a yawn,'_ Alastor smiled grimly. _'Spending too much time trying to keep up the appearance of a good and loyal Ministry official. He'll make a mistake soon, then we'll have 'em.'_ Now though, his attention was on Sirius Black. _'The man is cracking up if he thinks a Patronus will save him.'_ He quickly reached out and, in the same motion, batted Sirius' hand away from his wand and jabbed a red headed someone in the arm. "**Arthur Weasley**," he spoke louder than necessary. It was expected of him.

The startled man took a moment to stammer out a denial. "N-no s-sir. I'm-I'm-I-I'm ju'just a dis-distant relation, s-sir." He kept looking about nervously. "I-I'm actually ju-just a c-c-cous-cousin, s-sir. No-not Arthur at all."

A half remembered conversation snapped back into place and Alastor smiled, "Ah-ha, you'd be the family Squib then eh?" The man became even more flustered, which only worked to Alastor's advantage. "**No-no**," he sternly cut into the increasingly long and repetitive stuttering, "I just meant that yer in the wrong section. Folks without regular Magic levels have special seating." He took the Not-Arthur-Weasley by the arm and started to drag him along. "Protective shields and stuff like that." His mangled face twisted into a hideous (meant to be pleasant) smile, "Things can get a bit heated some times, what with all the stuffed robes wandering about." He laughed like he had told an amazingly funny joke. The unease his peculiar laugh caused in the crowd they were passing through, allowed him to get two seats on the aisle without difficulty. No one wanted to sit next to Mad-Eye Moody. (Even if Sirius Black were going to show up.)

The specially designated, Low Magic seating was right up in the front of the spectators' section. If you are going to have shielding then it is only smart to put the shielding as close to the source of the potential incoming Hexes as possible. So Sirius Black found himself standing in the aisle within an arm's reach of the Minister of Magic and Muggle trade. And across the aisle from the newly promoted Head of the Department for International Cooperation, a very proud, Percy Weasley.

The Wizengamot was called to order and Sirius sweated his way through several long and boring speeches about things as pointless as "An amendment to the regulations regarding the mandatory safety specifications for children's Training Brooms." The vote was heavy in favor of the amendment. 

Throughout the Hall unobtrusive House Elves carrying silver trays discreetly handed out chocolates.

Eventually Fudge opened the topic of Witness testimonies. Murmurs and vague calls for the head of Sirius Black were quickly silenced. There were a few cases, one involving a Wizard accused of breeding Acromantulas and selling them to exotic big game hunting parks. 

A case of homicide where the mother was being accused of drowning her children (the children had all been squibs.) 

The cases were all difficult to discern the right or wrong of. (Viritaserum works only to tell what the person who has taken it _perceives_ as the truth.) All of the cases were eventually decided by the testimony of the Witness that had sifted through the accused's mind and created a Witness Orb based upon what they found.

Reaching into a pocket in his robe, Sirius wrapped his fingers around the Witness Orb that Cardigan had made for him. _'First time to the Raven, first time to UnderNewYork, first time I believed that I could actually be free…'_ His thoughts were spiraling down to the place he had tried to survive for so many years. The place he had found where there was no hope but there was nothing else either, the place where he hid and the Dementors had not been able to torture him as they did the others. His breathing was becoming irregular, sweat was beginning to collect on his upper lip and palms. Heart beating faster, it was like he was cooling off after a workout, except he hadn't been moving. _'They're coming for me.'_

Fudge checked his Wizard's watch again, just to be sure, and smiled thinly. "I believe that we are joined by so many concerned citizens this day, because of one specific event that we have been led to believe will happen." It was exactly three minutes to eleven o'clock. Unless Black suddenly appeared in the Wizengamot Hall, then he would miss his hearing and automatically be ineligible for future stunts of this sort. Albus Dumbledore was mixed up in it somewhere, but unproveably so, and that irked Fudge no end.

For no apparent reason, Alastor Moody rose to his feet and began to walk toward the defendant's platform. It caused quite a stir. As casually as possible Alastor brought one hand around behind his back and an instant later Sirius relinquished the Orb into his care. "Fudge," he gave the Minister a nasty grin. Seemingly from nowhere he brought forth the Witness Orb and placed it in the three-pronged cradle that would allow the recording within, to be viewed by all present. 

Fudge was taken aback by the strange behavior and actions of the former Auror. He gaped for a few moments before realizing what it all meant. "You have him," he whispered hoarsely. Fudge's already beady eyes narrowed further, "You have him and now you're trying to prove we were wrong. I'll have you imprisoned for tampering with a Witness's testimony Moody, I'll see you and Dumbledore sent to Azkaban for this." Trying to regain some of his authoritative air, he stepped back and announced, "We seem to have only half of the required articles present." Straightening his bolo tie (his latest fashion crime) he activated a panic button in the slide. Dementors burst in through every door and began to drift toward the central platform where Sirius stood, unnoticeably, beside Alastor Moody and Cornelius Fudge.


	36. Consequences

In response to a comment from BookOfDays I would like to mention a nifty feature that ffnet has. If you use your mouse to highlight a word, and then hit the 'D' key, a window will *pop* up and show you the definition of the word in question. I do use some odd words sometimes, I read a lot of older (1800-1940's) literature and this has affected my vocabulary. (not to mention that I just plain like words in general.)

I did not have a disclaimer on the previous chapter. I'm not putting one here either. If you would like to read a disclaimer that applies to these two chapters please see the author note for chapter 4. 

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Gryffindor-80 Points- Caprice earns 10 Points because of her strong Gryffindor nerves, she can stand a cliffie; Jennifer is awarded 10 Points turning in assignments on time

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Slytherin-170 Points- Bookofdays, is awarded 10 points for being right; RivanKnight is awarded 10 Points for appreciating the importance of doing lots of homework; Milee is awarded 10 Points for healthy eating habits and flossing before coming to class

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Ravenclaw- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

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Huffelpuff- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 36: **Warning, some graphic nastiness is in this chapter.**

When lunchtime finally came around, the staff were joined by the Headmaster and Alastor Moody. Ron was not satisfied but Hermione and Harry were much more content to let things continue as they were.

"Harry," Ron pled, "when have you ever known Hagrid to miss two meals in a row?"

Swallowing his mouthful of carrot mash (it was better than what Aunt Petunia fixed, which was closer to carrot putty) and said again, "Ron, he might be doing work for the Headmaster." Giving a significant raise of his eyebrows to make it clear that he was talking about business for the Order.

"Then he would have arranged for a substitute." Ron turned away in frustration and did not see the amazement on his two friends' faces. 

Harry leaned closer to Hermione and whispered, "What is going on with Ron?" It had hurt some when it became clear that Ron and Hermione were beginning to have a relationship that he could not participate in. Now, though, Harry was just hoping that Hermione had some information that might explain Ron's behavior.

She tried to cover her response by taking a drink of pumpkin juice. "His father has been doing more work for the Ministry, and I guess Mister Weasley must be involved if the Order is increasing its activities too. Other than that I have no idea why he's been so tense lately."

~

"Severus," Albus called as they exited the Dining Hall after lunch.

"Yes Headmaster?" He waited until Dumbledore caught up with him in the hallway.

"Severus, what is Severa doing taking Remus' classes?" He readily accompanied the male on his way to the dungeons, and knew that he was being rather annoying in doing so. "Isn't Remus back yet, or is he too tired this morning?"

The male stopped and pivoted around so quickly that Albus nearly ran in to him. "What do you mean? Is Lupin missing?!" 

The urgency in the male's reaction made Albus take a step back, mentally if not physically. "I'm sorry," he held up a soothing hand, "I thought you knew." Matters like this, anything dealing with memory really, was a touchy subject. _'With good reason,'_ Dumbledore reminded himself, _'it's not as though he doesn't have reason to distrust everything he is presented with. I just wish there had been another way…'_ He came suddenly out of his momentary reverie when the male did something he had done only twice before. 

He reached out and placed the first two fingers of his left hand against the skin on the inside of the wrist of the Headmaster's outstretched hand. "What happened to draw Lupin away?"

Frozen in the hall, Albus tried not to think about the last time the gesture had been made. "Hagrid came in, last night, he said that there was an emergency. Remus felt well enough to help." 

__

//A calm night, with no foreshadowing of what was about to happen.//

The pressure on his wrist did not change, even though the male was obviously not calm any longer. Another question, this time about who had been present.

__

//It was late and the term had been out for nearly three weeks. A familiar tap on the Headmaster's door barely registered above the soft music he had been listening to.//

"Myself, Remus, Miss Moody, Alastor, Rubeus and a wounded Centaur colt." 

//_Entrance was granted and a dark hared boy silently entered the large and rather cluttered office. The boy would be entering his Fifth Year in the coming fall term, but his large eyes and small stature suggested a much younger child_.//

The cool fingers of the male slid away from his wrist, a blank stare absorbed the hectic comings and goings of students leaving their lunches for classes or common rooms if they had not already gotten their books.

//_'Sir, I am here to turn us in.' The boy's voice was steady, but unusual. It held a harsh almost gravely edge that would, as he grew, develop into a hypnotic drone or seductive purr depending on his mood. He showed no real hesitancy over his confession, 'He is a Death Eater.' He did hesitate for a moment then, but not for fear. He was weighing what he should tell, and what was to be withheld. 'I killed an innocent Muggle tonight. Would you rather tie me down, or would you accept my word that I will not move until the Dementors come?'_//

There were still a few students in the halls, most were on their way to their classes by now. Albus had some things that needed attention, an angry letter from Cornelius Fudge in particular. But he whispered, "What is it Severus? What happened?"

//_The shock and fear he had felt at the calm recital of crime and expected punishment, were enough to stun the white hared Headmaster for several minutes. The boy, meanwhile, placed his arms carefully on the armrests of his chair. Waiting for the binding charm he assumed would be coming soon. 'Why do you tell me this,' the older man asked. _

The child answered simply, 'Because it is the right thing to do.'//

Without answering, the male turned away. He began to make his way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Picking up his pace from a fast walk to a slow jog he called back, "He has done it again."

//_'If I give you the opportunity to fight the Dark Lord, would you?' _

The boy thought for several minutes then raised his blue catlike eyes for the first time since he had come. 'I would serve you, I would obey your commands.'

'You understand that you would have to go back to Voldemort. You would have to serve as a Death Eater but betray them at every opportunity. You would be Crucioed for your failures to accomplish the missions you were given. Why would you do that, agree to certain torture?'//

Albus waited as the male ran full-out up to the DADA classroom, skipping two steps at a time. A stride and pace that was not possible for a human to maintain as he did.

//_The boy answered again without hesitation, 'I would do it for you.'_//

Albus waited the short time it took for the male to get close enough to shout for the female to get her gear and toys ready for a loller. _'He will be tortured for this. And it is because I asked it of him.'_

She must have left the class with notes to take or else placed one of the more adept students in charge, for she rushed down the twisted staircase and out of the tower a few steps behind the male. They ran to the Potions Masters' rooms, changed to their uniforms and ran back up to the main hall.

Albus watched, knowing that even if he could stop one of them to ask what was happening, they would not be able to answer. He knew that time had been taken to use the Blocker. But that was nearly all he understood of their supposedly predictable behavior. Many mistakes had been made. Try as he might, and in the beginning he had tried very hard, he could not bring himself to rationally consider what he and Alastor had done to be one of those mistakes.

//_Small fingers rested gently on the inside of the Headmaster's wrist. 'Why do you offer me this chance?'_

Hesitation? No, the old man rejected the obvious answer to why he was being questioned. Instead, taking a cue from the child's own behavior he asked a question in return. 'You have never touched me before, why do you touch me now?'

'I can not always understand the words being used.' He struggled for a moment. Whether he were trying to put his thoughts into words or deciding how much to share could not be told from his expression. 'When I touch you, I can know what you are trying to say.'

'I am offering you this chance because I do not want to loose you.' Honesty was met with honesty.//

Weary and worried, Albus retreated from his memories, and set about answering Fudge's latest transcribed tantrum.

There were many study halls called, and many private owls sent, and many teachers unaccounted for, for most of the day.

~

Blood, fear, brass, the Stymphalians had been released to wreck what havoc they could. **He** had set up the trap. The male was certain. The rage he had felt echoing out from **his** sleep state had been enough. Hate was one thing **he** had never been able to control. Instead alternatives were sought. Such as striking out at the Headmaster by killing his charges, Hagrid and Lupin.

"Wand." Laconically she announced finding one of the Death Eaters Wands. 

An important find for two reasons. One, and the main reason why every member of the order was trained to disarm using charms that also deactivated various automatic retrieval spells, the wand could be traced to the wielder. And two, it gave a general battle line. In such close quarters with so many obstacles the wand could not have been flung far.

The noon sun cut vertically through the canopy of branches and leaves creating a spotlight like effect. It did not aid their search. Neither did the fact that everything smelled like flesh going very bad on an unusually warm autumn day.

"Something went wrong," the female spoke when they began searching the battle ground for remains. "From what Alastor has taught me, they would not be this careless about the disposal of the bodies. They would have been left in the open." She bent to examine a ribbon of skin that had been carefully pealed away and draped over a low branch. "Looks like the Were, same pigment at least. They didn't even light a Morsmordre." 

The half-gloved hand that smacked her across the cheek left a faint red mark and the crack of the strike broke the quietude of the abandoned clearing. She blinked before turning dark blue eyes to the male who was standing only a meter away.

"You live in a safety bought with your honor," he spat the words between clenched teeth. "I will suffer for his failure. I don't need you to tell me what went wrong, Voldemort will make sure I know exactly how each curse was earned…"

"You suffer because he sees you as a threat," she hissed back. "She has never locked me away, as I have been told he did to you, because I choose to do what I am supposed to do. Serve her as she could not serve herself."

"And she joined the ranks of Voldemort and his followers." His lip curled in disgust. "Do you intend to serve Voldemort as well?"

She was silent for a time. The slap made sense, she was only aiding the enemy. "Why?" He turned away and continued to search for more bits and pieces. "Why do you fight him. If you would only do as he wished, as you were created to do in the first place-"

"He rejected me. That is why I was created. If you had been accepted you would not have a division to begin with." He did not look up from the brush he was scrutinizing, "I could enable him to be a superior Death Eater, or I could enable him to be a better person. If I'm the one with the ability to moralize and he threw me out…"

She sealed the tube that now contained the skin sample and began trying to collect blood samples from the leaves nearby. "I can not allow her to serve the Dark Lord either. But I have never opposed her before."

"I fought him and when he locked me in the cage, he hated me enough that I was able to follow that hate back to the surface. It took twelve years. Eventually she will lock you away and forget you like a skill that is not adequately practiced." He paused then spoke with a slightly different tone, "I think he's still alive." He had found Remus. A vaguely human pile of broken and exposed bones covered in a ragged bloody sheathe that had been flesh. 

She stepped back to call the waiting House Elves. The tiny Elves appeared quickly, and a little to the left of the female. (Well away from the crime scene.)

~

The Daily Prophet had printed a special edition that evening. At dinner most of the students had been talking about what had happened. Sirius Black **had** shown up for his hearing. Dementors were apparently summoned when he, supposedly, tried to assassinate the Minister of Magic. The various papers that had rushed to distribute their versions of what had happened had not all waited for the truth. 

Madam Pomfrey was missing from the Head Table that evening, but Alastor Moody was back. He looked a bit worse for the wear, but in good enough health to convince Harry that his godfather was safe.

Aidan had managed to steal Hermione's usual seat, to Harry's right, and now he excitedly whispered, "Do you think Sirius'll try and contact you tonight?"

Harry was torn, between enthusiasm and dread. He had too much experience with seeing the darker truths of life. He smiled his thanks to Ron, who stepped in and distracted Aidan with questions about his hopes for getting on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. 

Ron waited for Harry outside the Dining Hall after he had finally detached himself from Aidan. "Oi, Harry," he called with a light humor that usually brought his friend out of a sullen mood. He made his long easy stride match Harry's shuffling reluctant pace. "Harry, maybe we could go pick up that quill you dropped in Potions?" 

Harry looked up quickly, then caught the meaning behind the words. "Thanks Ron." With Ron by his side he found the courage to head down the stone stairs into the cold, dank dungeons.

Side by side they could not have looked more opposite if they had tried. Ron had gone through a growth spurt and was now taller than his father; Harry was barely taller than Dudly. But when it came to Dudly, every centimeter counted. Ron's coppery red hair shone like a ruddy flame in the dark. Harry's wild dark thatch did not even have the blue sheen to it that some dark hared people have. Both were thin Ron from his rapid growth and high metabolism, Harry from malnutrition. Bright shiny blue eyes that held humor and a certain, Weasley, mischievousness. Emerald green eyes that held a jaded skepticism, and very little of the light of youth.

Ron joked a little, and got halfhearted chuckles in response. The door to the Potions classroom was open, a very unusual thing indeed. "Ahem," Ron cleared his throat and rapped on the door anyway. "Professor Snape, Professor Moody? Are you in here?" Cautiously they entered. They really didn't need to go to the Potions classroom, it had been a convenient cover story, but the door being open seemed wrong.

The door to Snape's office was suddenly flung open. Madam Pomfrey stood in the doorway and turned back to fire off a last volley of what must have been a, more than heated, argument. "You can go to Hell for all I care, I'll even pack your bags for you, but if you think I'm going to let you get away with it again. You damn well better think again!"

Harry and Ron plastered themselves against the wall beside the hall door. The Medi-Witch did not see them as she stormed out. 

Wow, Ron mouthed to Harry, when they both began to breathe normally again. Harry seemed al in favor of going back out into the hall and heading for his godfather's hidden rooms, Ron shook his head and cautiously tiptoed toward the, now open, office door. Reluctant but curious, Harry followed. 

Snape leaned forward, his hands flat against the desktop. He looked exhausted. 

"Professor?" Ron kept his voice low.

Snape did not turn to look, he didn't give any indication that he had heard anything. Shoulders slumped, and hair in his eyes, the Potions Master eventually pushed back off the desk. The boys had to move to get out of his way as he passed by. At the door to the hall, he paused and called over his shoulder, "Your godfather is in my lab. You can leave your wands here and come with me." 

Never having heard that tone from the normally harsh and sarcastic man before, Harry did not question anything else he said. Quickly placing his wand on the professor's desk he ran to catch up with Snape. Ron followed a moment behind, but caught them easily, Snape was not in danger of breaking any speed related rules of hallway conduct.

~

Sirius jumped to his feet and charged the door, "Snape, what in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!" He darted into the stairwell, totally forgetting the fall he had suffered before, and pushed Harry and Ron back up the stairs. "You damn," he turned back to say it to the male's face, but stopped short. "**NO**!" He screamed and flung himself at the closing door to the lab. Holding the door open, Sirius motioned the two stunned boys into the lab. "What would have happened if the door had shut," he asked between clenched teeth.

"You would have fallen." The answer came from someone that Harry was beginning to think might be the** thing** that the Headmaster had told professor Lupin and his godfather about. The **thing** that looked like and sounded like Snape, but wasn't.

The male walked across the room, around the tables and past the slab, and slipped through a door that blended a little too well with the wall at the back of the room. 

Harry caught only a slight glimpse of what lay in the room beyond. Sirius had a hard time telling him that it was Remus.


	37. Serious Conatact

I'm not making money or claiming things that are not mine. If you are in doubt e- me and I'll tell you if I invented it or 'borrowed' it. Ok?

ATTENTION!!! I had emergency eye surgery last week (July 17th and 18th) and so I'm taking a while to get back on top of things. The House Points will be added to the chapter when I get the chance. It will be this week, I hope. (note added on July 28th. I'm a bit late, but the Points are up now)

**Gryffindor-100 Points- **Caprice earns 10 Points for having seen a movie that I have not, and still finding time to study; FrogFoot earns 10 Points for being diligent and keeping careful notes

**Slytherin-190 Points- **Bookofdays, is awarded 10 Points for being such a quick study; RivanKnight is awarded 10 Points for attempting to register a, very well done, OFC as a member of the House Points contest (what a Slytherin!)

**Ravenclaw**- **_if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House._**

**Huffelpuff**- **_if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House._**

Chapter 37:

Sirius was suddenly thankful for the, usually extra, stools that cluttered the lab. Pulling two closer to the stool he had become used to using, he motioned for the boys to each take a seat. He dropped his head into his hands and felt the cool smoothness of the single bead that had been braided into his hair. The bead that had somehow saved his life. Taking a deep breath he tucked the braid with the green bead behind his left ear and began by telling Harry what had happened at the Wizengamot. It was that or try not to break down again while telling them about what had happened to Remus.

//_The Dementors knew he was there, Fudge had signaled them that it was so. They came into the Wizengamot Hall knowing that he was there, and so, when Alastor Moody ended the Fidelus charm it made no real difference. The other Wizards and Witches present were not about to get in the way of a full company of Dementors, even Fudge cringed back from them as they surrounded the platform._

_"Sirius Black has come, with Witness testimony, to be retried," Alastor thundered to the assembled members of the Wizards' Council. "Legally, morally you are obligated to hear his case before passing judgement or carrying out sentence."_

_The smell of Azkaban was thick in the air. Madness and death. A few of the figures shrouded in tattered grey robes and rags drifted onto the actual platform where Sirius stood. He could no longer tell if Moody was still there or had run like Fudge. _//

"No Harry," Sirius smiled, a little, at the question. "There were not a hundred Dementors. I don't care what 'The Sorcerer's Source' said, there were maybe twenty. They did enter the Hall, and they did come up to the platform where I was standing…"

//_Several days before, when the Fidelus charm was being placed on him, Sirius had asked Remus to keep his wand. He could not sneak it past the wards on the Wizengamot Hall. _

_Now, one of the Dementors seemed to have been elected or chosen somehow, because only one actually reached up and drew back it's hood._

_The indentations where eyes had never been. The skin around the mouth that could not be called lips and covered no teeth. The hands that reached out to frame his face were slick as though with rot. The way it touched him though, the way it held his face, was so… gentle that he could not find the will to fight. There was no point in fighting, but the touch drained him of the **will** to fight. A slow tear slid down his cheek. For himself? For his failure to avenge his dead friend? For Harry? Sirius knew only that he was about to end. Not die, just end._//

Sirius swallowed again and continued. "It did come up to me. And it did lower its hood, but it did not actually do more than touch me." Harry was sweating. '_Harry has encountered Dementors also,'_ Sirius remembered. Lying to him would not work, Harry knew what it felt like, what it did to a person. Fortunately his godson did **not** have twelve years of experience to draw upon. Sirius consoled himself with that… 

//_The only thing holding him upright was the fact that he could not move. The demon tilted his head for him and another tear slipped down his cheek. For Lilly, or Remus, it was too much. He could not even think. Something odd happened then. A weight he was not accustomed to pulled at his hair, the bead. _

_The dark green bead swung forward as his head was being tilted. The arc of the movement was interrupted by the Dementor's hand. Then there was a keening wail that echoed down to the soul of every Wizard and Witch who was frozen in place, watching the nightmare being played out before them. The Dementor's cries were taken up by the others of its kind present, and the Hall was filled with the sound, or feeling, no one was sure afterward which it had been._

_The Dementors seemed to almost fade from the room. The Witness Orb that Alastor had placed in the projector, was activated. Sirius' own memories were laid open for the assembly to judge him by. _

_The recording opened with the tangy honeyed voice of Cardigan. She gave her name, Witness Identification Number, and the standard oath that, what was to be presented was the truth. Somewhere Alastor had gotten a hold of some chocolate and was pushing it into Sirius' mouth. As Cardigan's voice continued on, steady and soft, he began to recover enough to stand back up. He had apparently fallen but could not remember doing so._//

"It suddenly released me, I'm not sure why, and the Dementors all left the Hall. Albus was there and he called for the legal retrial. I'm not sure if anyone would have been rational enough to hear my case if he hadn't taken charge…" Conveniently leaving out the flash of auburn and blue streaked hair and glimpse of gray knit sweater, as someone darted out of the hall, Sirius let his words trail off.

Ron felt like an intruder, this was really a conversation between Harry and his godfather. But from what he understood, getting out of the away would be impossible. When it became obvious that Sirius was done with his tale, Ron quietly asked what Snape had meant, about them falling if the door had shut.

Sirius groaned and combed his fingers through his hair, knocking the braid out from where he had tucked it behind his ear. "That, Ron, was the male." A bitter and bemused look crossed his face, "I guess Harry's told you about the conversation he sat in on, with Remus, the Headmaster and me?" Ron nodded, Sirius shrugged, "It is just easier to call them both Snape and leave it at that. But, he is, and is not the same as your professor Snape. It's hard to explain. But basically we can't come here or leave unless either he or the female open the doors." 

Ron's eyes sparkled in that way they did, when he was on the trail of something that would most likely get him in trouble. "The female, she fills in for Professor Moody right?"

A startled gasp drew their attention to the door at the back of the lab. The female stood rigidly in the doorway, her hand still on the latch. 

Sirius got the distinct feeling that something very wrong had been said. "I'm sorry," he started, "they already knew about the male and, I just thought, that…"

The male came up, close, behind her. "The Headmaster, Alastor Moody, Lupin and Black they all know of you. What do these two matter?" 

His voice was calm, but she did not relax, "I am not to be known of. I need to be safe."

Keeping his hands up, palms facing his chest, the male used an elbow to shove her aside. Finally in the lab he moved to the wash basin. Stripping off the bloodied gloves, he threw them in to the fresh biohazard-red bag, stepped on a pedal on the floor that activated the faucet, and began to wash off the blood that was dripping down his forearms. "She keeps you safe enough," he spat the words without turning to face her. 

"You protect him well enough to not have a place to throw accusations from," she sneered and closed the door. "You eat every lash meant for his back, and dare say that I am aiding and abetting the enemy?!" 

As she was removing and throwing away her gloves he sighed and leaned, heavily, on the edge of the washbasin. "It is well past dark. Have you ever written to a full Were?"

"Aye," she nodded. Handing him the towel she waited for more. To her eyes he was fighting for control, already.

The male's voice faded as he seemed to speak to himself next. "Lupin is a Half Were, he'll need another Half Were to donate blood, but he'll need another Were Canid to donate the skin grafts." With a shake of his head he was back to giving the female her orders. "Use my Paramorph, they will know it. There is a pack in the Forbidden Forest, headed by lord Keen Ear and lady Death Bite. Request Black Shawl, Gray Legs, and Pebbles. End the contact with the offer that I will return the mark that I hold- do not forget to mention that he is an Omega Zed. We don't need another front for the war."

"Death Bite," the female repeated. "Isn't that a Beta style of name?"

The male had opened his robe and, touching a certain point in the collar of the frock coat and vest beneath, the buttons undid themselves as he nodded. "Lord Keen Ears' first mate was her sister. The lady, True Scent, died in battle. Against a Dingmaul, I believe." Finally able to get at the buttons of his stiff white undershirt, he manually undid the top three and held the collar away from his throat. "Come Benefit, I have need of your service."

As it emerged, claws at the wrists of its wings tugging at the shirt and tangling is the male's hair, Sirius, Harry and Ron watched with rapt attention. Membranous wings ribbed with fine bones, were joined at the shoulders. There was a long, slender, neck and a delicate diamond shaped head. Tiny fan like ears spread from the sides of it's head and it looked around warily at its audience. Blinking bright blue, with slitted pupil, eyes it finally freed its self of the male's shirt and crouched on his shoulder. Its fore legs had what looked like three fingers and a thumb, all tipped with little claws. Its hind legs were jointed, much like a cat's, so that it walked on its toes. The long whip of its tail curled twice around the male's neck.

Once his shirt and vest were closed the male reached up and with one finger he stroked the creature under its chin. "Benefit, I don't need to introduce any of them to you?"

In a whispery, feminine, voice it replied, "Black, Sirius, Gryffindor. Potter, Harry, son of James and Lilly Potter, all three Gryffindors. Weasley, Ronald- Ron, son of Arthur and Molly Weasley, they were before. I would imagine though, that they were Gryffindors as well." She lay back her ear fans and turned her head so that the edge of her jaw could be rubbed.

"I must go soon," the male gently rubbed the jaw, then along her neck. "I am returning, but I will not be able to feed you for several days. Take care and keep warm." 

The female straightened her cloak and motioned for Harry and Ron to follow her to the door. The little female Paramorph leapt from her master's shoulder and glided, on partially unfurled wings, to the female's shoulder. Harry and Ron were too stunned to do anything but follow. The Paramorph let her tail hang limply down and cast a quick glance back at the male Garom before the female Garom had them all out of the lab and on their way to the dungeons.

When the door shut Sirius nervously paced for a bit, then leaned back against the wall. The male was looking tired even to Sirius' eyes, and that could not be good. "I didn't want to ask while Harry was here, but…Remus…" his jaw tensed and he waited for whatever news he would get.

"I believe it will live," the male stated as he began to pull together familiar, blood sample taking, implements. "It will be, ah, tricky. Neither of us is used to working with the living and neither of us has had any serious healing related medical training."

"Can I see him?" Sirius balled up his fists as the male took his time in answering.

"There really isn't enough of it for you to see." He stopped and turned faintly glowing blue eyes to Sirius, "You look at things so strangely. I wonder some times, what you look like to each other. It must certainly be other than you look to me."

"And how do I look to you?" Sirius hadn't meant it to say it out loud, and certainly had not meant it as a deeply philosophical query. But the male seemed to have taken it that way. _'Why does he take everything I say and work to use it against me?! And why in Merlin's name am I letting him distract me?!'_

Voice soft as night, the male raised one hand slightly. "I could show you." He took a hesitant step forward before catching himself and quickly yanking open a drawer and rummaging through its contents.

The door at the back of the lab opened and Sirius jumped in his skin, _'Did he hear someone coming? What did he mean, he could show me, show me what?'_

Fenny stepped half way through the doorway and addressed the male. "Sir, do you think that I could give him something for the pain? The poor Were-"

"No," the male snapped. "I need it to keep breathing. The pain relievers that I have here would also affect its blood pressure and we can't afford to cut things any closer as it is." He slammed the drawer shut, but managed to do so quietly. "How are its pulse and blood oxygen saturation levels?"

For one blinding flash all Sirius could see was his hands strangling the male, but it would do no good. The male was, **again**, the only help he could look forward to. _'He has always called Remus an it, Remmie said so. But to not give him any sort of pain killer?! That's monstrous. He's a-'_ The male was suddenly standing very close and Fenny was gone.

"Whatever else I may be," the male leaned in and whispered. "I saved your life. And you now carry my mark." He flicked at the bead in Sirius' hair. 

"I thought," the male was too close, way too close. _'Why is he so close?!'_ Fenny was gone they were alone.

He relaxed enough to let a faint smile pull at his lips, and took another step closer to Black. Raising his hands to the stones on either side of Black's head his frock coat fell open around them both. 

Sirius had to close his eyes, the light from the male's eyes were too bright. "I thought, that it was a Credit." Sirius barely moved his mouth. 

The male turned his head to the side to avoided clashing noses with Black, and still managed to keep from making physical contact. "Credits are disks with symbols carved into them."

Sirius started to shake when the male's cool breath feathered against his lips. _'Would he force me into a non-con?!'_

"A Mark can be nearly anything, from Dragons' teeth, to stone beads. My mark is a facetless green-amber bead. Usually tied in the hair at the left temple. You haven't spent much time on the dark side of the moon have you…pet?" He barely breathed the last word and thoroughly enjoyed the fact that Black actually seemed to think that he would bridge the gap between them.

Sirius nearly gasped when, suddenly, the other body left his personal space. Without once touching him. 

~

In less than ten minutes the door to the stairwell opened and three Weres walked in, followed by the female. They were limping slightly and two refused to sit, instead choosing to lean against the slab. The female Garom held a smallish glass container. She paid Sirius only the partial courtesy of nodding once to him, then she too slipped into the room beyond.

As the door was shutting the male's voice could be heard softly demanding to know what had taken so long, and the female's reply that she had taken the skin samples and grown the grafts in the Potions classroom.

The three Weres and Sirius glanced around the lab at the cluttered tables, looked at the space in the wall where the camouflaged door was located, and tried not to stare at each other. 

"Sirius Black," he broke the silence.

"Pebbles," the male Were leaning back against the slab nodded. He was not smiling but he did seem sort of friendly.

"I'm Gray Legs," the she-Were beside Pebbles smiled brightly. She reached out her hand, as though to offer it to Sirius, but winced and gingerly touched a spot on the back of her right hip instead.

Pebbles nudged at the shoulder of the sulking woman who had taken the stool. "Black Shawl." She snapped over her shoulder at him, "What does some Omega Zed have over Keen Ears?"

Gray Legs groaned and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Black Shawl, we have been over this, it's not the Omega Zed we're here for. It's Dark Blood. He holds lord Keen Ears' credit and we are here to earn it back."

"Excuse me," Sirius broke in, "Omega Zed? What does that mean, are you talking about Remus?"

Black Shawl rolled her eyes and carefully turned away from Sirius. Pebbles shifted his weight. 

Gray Legs shook her head and smiled, "Please don't mind them too much. They are naturally a little leery of a Zed. We use the terms Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Omega to describe an individual's rank within the pack. Omega Zed is the rank of one who has not joined a pack. They are lower than any member of a pack. Even Omegas, like us, can legally dominate them." She smiled again, it seemed to be a nervous habit. "Omega Zeds prefer to keep their Human names and live on the fringes of Human society."

"But aren't you Half Weres?" Sirius was trying to follow the, obviously simplified, explanation that Gray Legs was trying to give him. _'Sounds just like the Muggle biologists descriptions of non-Magic wolf packs.'_

Pebbles was suddenly nervous. "Yes," he said sternly, "we are Half Weres, but we are members of lord Keen Ears' pack, because we wanted to accept our new selves. Omega Zeds **all** try to fight their instincts, calling them unnatural and foreign. We have accepted who and what we are. Omegas do not infect others, only Zeds are known to do such a thing."

"I didn't mean to-" 

The female flung the door open and headed for the cabinet where Sirius knew they kept the gloves and hoses.

_'Remus said they were called lines…'_

"Gray Legs," she pulled out the expected gloves and sealed packages of lines. "Get on the slab, I'll draw you first. You should be nearly healed up by now."

She muttered something in the affirmative and Pebbles got out of the way as her sleeve was rolled up and alcohol filled the air. The Weres obviously did not appreciate the cleansing aspect of the pungent disinfectant, and Black Shawl look nearly ready to complain.

The needle that the female used was a larger gauge and the line was a thicker diameter than any that Sirius had seen used before. It took only about fifteen minutes for the pint of Half Were blood to be transferred into the bag. By the time Gray Legs was done Black Shawl was ready to take her place. Unhappy as she may have been, she was not uncooperative. The female took the first pint of blood into the back room while the second was being drawn. She took some time, so Sirius figured that she was also setting up the transfusion for Remus.

~

Fenny would have to finish the last of the transfusions, time was nearly up. The male and female hurried Sirius (against his objections) and the three Weres, up the spiral staircase and into the dungeons. Sirius knew the way back to his rooms, the Omegas could follow their noses, the male could hardly walk.

Together they stumbled into the Potion Masters' shared study, then headed for their separate rooms.

~

As he had expected, Snape felt the brand on his arm as his first waking sensation. Clenching and opening his fist, he drew his wand and summoned his clothes. Stepping from his room, he heard a slight scuffling in the bedchamber opposite his own. _'So it's not a private summons…not sure if that's good or bad.'_

Joining Snape in the study/sitting room she said two words that resolved Snape's ambivalence. "Lupin survived."

~

His mask effectively hid the extra pallor of his face, and he was able to control the trembling in his hands before they apparated to the Death Eater gathering. Cruciatus was something he had faced before. 


	38. Recoil

Blah.blah.blah.making.no.money.off.of.JKR's.work.blah.blah.blah

**Gryffindor-80 Points- **Caprice earns 10 Points for appreciating a Laconic phrase; FrogFoot earns 10 Points for a wonderful extra credit assignment essay on the intricacies of plot and tone in certain fics

**Slytherin-170 Points- **RivanKnight is awarded 10 Points for rooting for the underdog

**Ravenclaw**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**Huffelpuff**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**** This chapter is dedicated to Riv. You have been a great help to me; listening to my insecure blitherings, helping me to get beyond plot-holders, and being a good e-friend. I know that they say that 'As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.' Our little author chats are proof of that! ****

Chapter 38: WARNING: VIOLENCE

The funny thing, if there were a funny side to being tortured for botching a simple mission, was that he, unlike most Death Eaters knew he would survive. _'So why am I sweating? Where is this anxiety coming from? I feel hunted trapped, doomed, the Dark Lord will not allow me to be killed.'_

_*For now,* _It reminded him. 

Could It be right? _'The only thing that It has been right about,'_ Snape reminded himself. _'The only thing that It has **ever** been right about, is that with It gone I will be very vulnerable indeed.'_ He tried to focus on the immediate problems and let the others slide back out of the way. 

Apparently the old Malfoy chateau suited the Master's taste, they were in the same large room as the last few times large gatherings had been called. The columns and general spaciousness of the room suggested that it had once been intended as a ballroom. A different sort of dance was being performed there now.

Snape was still sweating. He wasn't free yet, and it did no good to his cause to dwell on that fact._ 'The other three involved in the ambush will be **corrected** for their failures, but I was in charge of the whole bloody mess.' _There was a faint stirring; It knew what was coming. Passing an overconfident Lucius Malfoy, without acknowledging him, Snape savored the fact of the coming torture. It writhed weakly, obviously It was beginning to accept Its coming end.

_*But what will happen to you when I am gone? You will not have even the hope of becoming better…they never get better when they fragment.*_

_'We will live. That is all I care about. Your precious Headmaster gave me a second chance at life and took the only thing I had left to live for. I will see to it that he pays for betraying me. And for betraying her.' _

Something Snape had never felt from the Other washed over him. It did not shrink back, It resisted. Then he was in control again and it was time to face his master.

~

All of the Fates and Chimeras were present. Four black robed figures stood a little out of line, two steps forward into the circle. Their failures were announced, by Wormtail, for the entire assembly to hear. 

Being disarmed was treated less severely than being disarmed and **not** retrieving the lost wand. Lucius was given two, unhealthy, doses of painful abdominal spasms (for failing to cast his Muscular Excise curse, in a strong enough form to kill the Half Giant outright.) Then it was Snape's turn. 

Many in the circle wanted to step back before it started. Fear kept them in place.

"You." Wormtail's shrill, sniveling voice was getting on Snape's nerves. So much so, that the little rat of a man was in very real danger of being added to the charges against the Potions Master. The little toad was practically glowing with the chance to get even with Snape. "One of the Master's most trusted servants," Wormtail continued, unaware of the danger he was in. "You have failed our master in the highest way possible…"

The next several ominous phrases were drown out by a scoffing voice that only Snape could hear.

*_You, a traitor against Voldemort?! Ha! Please, for once, earn the charges that I am to be punished for.*_

Nearly a half-hour later It was too exhausted to mock anyone and just lay still waiting for the next curse. Snape started to worry though, _'It's too weak. Why is Lord Voldemort allowing this to go on for so long? The Fates are always treated harsher than the common men, or even the Chimeras, but this-'_ From where he lay, in his own vomit and sweat, Snape saw the edge of a cloak pass by. The only one that would dare to move from the circle would be the Dark Lord himself. _'Voldemort, coming over to check on me? Not a good sign.'_

Up until now, Wormtail had been giving the offenders their behavior modification inducements, when Lord Voldemort stepped forward Snape wasn't the only one to become concerned. Every Death Eater received one Cruciatus from their new master when he or she joined; a taste of what would come if failure occurred. Aside from that initial warning though, Voldemort left the punishment to others. Unless a special case came up…

"Sss-erverus-sss," he was hissing, a very bad sign. "Sss-everus-sss, why did you fail me?" The question was softly spoken, and very rhetorical. He knew Snape had no voice left to answer with. "Was-ss it becaussse of the others-ss that were with you?" 

The other three men from the team were shaken by the threat, one was still twitching from his corrective punishment. (If you did loose your wand, it was better to wait and find it rather than to come back wandless.)

Snape still couldn't move enough to breathe on a regular basis, let alone to follow his master's pacing form. _'Get out here!'_ He reached back but found nothing, It had retreated. The Dark Lord was prattling on about loyalty and devotion, but Snape couldn't find It anywhere. _'You are obligated to protect me, get out here now!'_

Through the Dark Mark Voldemort could feel Snape's rising panic, and knew it was because the Other was not responding. "Sss-everus-sss," he raised the limp man to his feet with a slight flick of his wand. "I can't very well return a corps-ss-e to Albus-ss in pla-sss-e of his-ss Potions-ss Ma-sss-ter. However, while you have been punished for failing at your mission, you have not been punished for failing your men."

The Potions Master in question wasn't in need of much reviving. He hadn't taken much more than twinges of the last few curses sent by Wormtail. He ached and his throat felt raw, but the worst of the pain was fading as he continued to waken.

One by one the members of the failed mission stepped forward for a rare treat. It was not often that you got the chance to take a free shot at one of the Fates. The fact that it was sanctioned, by Voldemort himself, meant that they could face no reprisal for their actions.

The three men who stood forward to get their revenge were well aware of Lord Voldemort's implied warning against using truly dangerous curses. Lucius took his turn first and cast a nerve sensitivity-heightening spell, content to vicariously enjoy the fun; he then stepped back a little. 

The second man, a large, brutish looking, cloaked shade appreciated Lucius' thoughtfulness and cast a temporary curse that involved the symptoms associated with Fibromyalgia. 

Snape knew that the light level in the room was low, very low. But each flickering flame on each candle stabbed into his brain. Nausea, so strong that he fell back to the floor and dry heaved until blood started to come up, was coupled with deep muscle pain that made actually breathing more painful than it seemed worth. His every joint protested against the small movements that he made with each gasp for air. Snape lay back on the floor and tried to focus on surviving.

Too many long minutes later the third man stepped forward. A slightly stoop shouldered silhouette, obviously he was a member of the old guard. He waited for the previous curse to abate before delivering his own. He pulled a small vial of pale blue powder from a pocket. A potions Master himself, he was rather excited to get the chance to test his new creation. Nothing much seemed to happen, but the old man was pleased. He knew that without being able to hear the screams, the other Death Eaters would not appreciate the full effect of what was going on. Snape on the other hand knew exactly what was happening.

Powder had been thrown into his face. It got in his black and bloodshot eyes and it choked him when it entered his lungs as he tried to breathe. Then his skin was being slowly charred and the effect was happening over his entire body. Rolling spasmodically, he tried to draw on the coolness that he knew the stones beneath him held. But the world looked to be on fire and everything within and without him seemed to be confirming the illusion as true. 

~

They threw themselves into the hedonistic mayhem of the Dark Revel that followed. Most were able to distract themselves from the more obvious dangers of being a Death Eater by enjoying the few Muggles that had been obtained for that very purpose. Lucius Malfoy, however, did not forget. He also did not fail to see Voldemort, leave the Revel early. Followed very slowly by Snape. 

~

He stumbled a little, entering his master's chamber. A subtle Enervate, and one of the strongest pain relievers he knew, were the only things keeping him upright. Voldemort walked ahead of him, until he reached the center of the room. Then the Dark Lord turned and waited, with unusual patients, for his servant to kneel and bow his head. Snape hadn't been sure how he would actually go about kneeling in the properly submissive fashion required. 

Slowly Snape sank to the floor, first one knee then the other. The whole bowing thing was beyond him; he had to put a hand out to catch himself before he fell flat on the carpet. True the curses had been ended several minutes ago. Their effects though, sore and strained muscles, the lingering sensitivity to light, and the echoes of more pain than his mind had been able to bare, stole the grace and fluidity from his movements. After being granted the right to stand he tried to rise in one smooth motion, as was his habit. Then he tried to pull one leg forward and leverage himself up like most of the men did.

Voldemort waited while Snape sat, legs folded beneath him, and holding his face off the carpet, with both hands now. Watched as Snape finally sank to the floor, face first. Then, when Snape tipped onto his side and lay helplessly still, he drew his wand and whisked the unconscious man to the bathroom. 

A charm filled the large tub with faintly steaming water, and another had the soiled garments removed. He lowered Snape into the water and watched him fight a moment against the sensation of being immersed in liquid. Exiting softly he took a moment to cast a final charm, to prevent Snape's accidentally drowning while unconscious, "Enervate." He saw the dark blue eyes flicker open, before closing the door.

When the male heard the door close the first thing he wondered was what the hell he was doing there. The second was if he was there what did that mean for **him?** How had **he** fared through the evening? A clock sounding midnight sent him scrambling for his clothes, which had been Scourgifyed apparently, as they were no longer filthy with the remnants of his- their ordeal. Quickly drinking a mouthful of the foul tasting blood red liquid, he took time to ponder his situation after putting the vial away.

Focusing deeply on the connection he still had with his black eyed keeper, he found the link to be nearly as silent as when he used the blocker. The pain slowed his movements only once, trying to get his other arm into the vest he felt a stab of pain flash, white hot, lance through his shoulder. Wincing slightly he grit his teeth and forced the arm through the hole, but took a bit more care with the large frock coat and custom tailored Potions robe. Standing in the partially opened bathroom door he blinked at the dim lamps and motionless figure seated before the fire. 

"I thought we should…talk, before it iss too late." Voldemort's voice was cordial; as cordial as a dry husk rattling in the breeze.

With nothing else to do, he stepped forward, stopping with most of the room's width still between them. 

"You would be more comfortable, I believe, if you ussed a cooling charm," Glimmering red eyes turned from the fire to regard the male. "Perhapss though, you are not sstrong enough in the Dark and therefore do not mind the heat? And yet you are three quarterss 'of the night' as they ssay. A very intriguing mixs.""

He said nothing. 

"Ansswer me," the Dark Lord ordered quietly. He took up a silver goblet from the small table at his elbow and drank a few sips of the oddly pink liquid. (Nagini's milky venom mixed with blood.)

The male blinked after a moment of blank staring. "There is nothing to answer, you have spoken no words that I recognize as such."

"Ah yess, the charmss," placing the goblet back in the canter of the table Voldemort turned his full attention on the male but did not expand on his thoughts. Red eyes regarded blue for a silent minute. Instead he returned to his earlier topic, "I am impresssed that your vocal cordss have healed enough to sspeak sso clearly. I wanted to ssee you."

The male shook his head with a slight negative motion, "You refer to Pettigrew as Wormtail to remind him of the friendships he betrayed. To remind him of the choices he has made, and the fact that you know. You wished to show **him** that he needs to rely on you fully, if he is to defeat me. You wanted to see me to show me that you could control things well enough to do so."

An eye ridge rose slightly.

The soft tone of a chime sounded, breaking the gentle violence hidden within the conversation. 

Like a specter of death, Voldemort raised a bony, claw like, hand. "I exspect that you have healed him ssufficiently by thiss time. You may fetch him out now."

The male returned to the still steam filled bathroom. As he closed the door he heard the voices of the Dark Lord and his traitorous right-hand rat. The grating hiss of bad news being received, and then, he heard no more. He had hidden his exhaustion well, but now his strength gave out. Falling back into the dark of his prison he was again enveloped in an acid-bath of hate and the pain of his torture.

~

Black hadn't been able to sleep much the first few nights in the dungeons. The cold damp air was so like Azkaban, and yet so different. He had tried to sleep in only his shorts, as he had while in school, but found that he felt vulnerable without the long sleeves and pant legs had had worn for so many years. In a depressing way, everything, from the quiet to the soft bed and thick blankets was strange and new.

He was having a familiar dream. The room was spacious but bare. The walls and floor and ceiling were gray. His clothes were gray and even the air had a wispy grayish feel. The stones of the room were smooth and the only exit from the prison was many meters above his head, well beyond his reach. Out there the sun was warm and there were colors and scents that he had begun to forget the names of. It was the same dream he had had for the last two years of his imprisonment. It had never changed. Always he had woken with tears running down his face and wetting his filthy hair and prison uniform.

But this time, as he scraped his fingers against the near seamless blocks of granet, the air began to change. A blue tinged light was in the room behind him. As he turned, a cool breeze tickled at his cheek and neck. 

The vague blue light became two glowing eyes- in the dark above his bed. Adrenaline shot his hand out toward his wand faster than fear was able to register the threat. The male was in his room, over his bed.

A hand clamped on his wrist and in an instant he was on his back. Arm pinned painfully behind his back. He was being smothered by his own pillow. For some reason he remembered a charm he had heard of that some new mothers used, to keep their infants from smothering on pillows. Then he realized that his pillow was not the threat that should be occupying his attention. A body pressed flat against his back and across his pinned arm. A pair of lips pressed close to his ear and a cool breath sighed past his ear.

Sirius jerked awake with a violent thrashing at the empty air around him. The male was not there. Panting with fear, heart racing from the adrenaline rush, he calmed enough to check the clock. It was still early enough that there would be no students in the halls. _'I need to know.'_ Thinking carefully about the consequences that could come from such a confrontation, he dressed quickly and left to find the male.

Wandering the dungeon halls was getting old fast. After only a few minutes he had no idea where he was, or how to get back. "Where is he," Sirius demanded of the stones around him. 

"It would help to know to whom you are referring." The male spoke from the dark to Black's right. "Unless you don't really want an answer. Hogwarts has trouble understanding the complexities of Human intentions. Sometimes you need to be very blunt with her."

In the dark and alone, a confrontation did not seem like such a good idea anymore. But he was here. "I-" Sirius swallowed and tried again, "I was looking for you."

The male seemed to bleed from the dark when he stepped forward. His face held no expression; not even his eyes had a glimmer of emotion to them. After a few beats the male glanced back down the hall, "I am expecting…guests. I suggest you get your question out before I have to run."

"What do you plan to do with me?" Sirius' voice was strong; inside he wanted to melt between the stones. 

The male answered almost before Sirius could finish his demand. "Do you mean will I rape you?" Black's freeze-of-terror was answer enough. He flicked another look down the hall, "They have arrived, would you care to join us?" 

Sirius stubbornly shook his head, "I want an answer."

"No you don't." The male headed down the hall alone.

_'_Black ran a few steps to catch up with him, "What do you mean I don't want an answer?! I think I should know if I'm safe or not!"

"I think you should also. You did, at one point." For some reason he looked Black in the eye then, and allowed an unnecessary answer, for once. "You are easily intimidated by physical closeness. I think that is because of your confinement. Perhaps you should speak with Tala, she also carries my mark."

Black was dumbfounded. "So threatening me with rape was just a means to an end?"

The male smirked, "I'm a Slytherin for a reason. I do tend to use the fastest means to reach my goal."

Further argument was put off by the arrival of three people. The female's eyes shone in the dark leading the way for the two following her. As they drew closer Sirius recognized the Exotic Vampire, Starch, and he felt as though he had definitely seen the bronze skinned dark hared woman somewhere before.


	39. Out Of Time

**Gryffindor-100 Points- **Caprice earns 10 Points for being teacher's pet (she proof read this chapter); Eizoku is awarded 10 Points for doing all of the required reading for the classes she missed

**Slytherin-190 Points- **RivanKnight is awarded 10 Points for catching my delecterable reference (she also proof read this chapter); Milee is awarded 10 Points for inventing a very effective, and cleverly abbreviated, version of the common Cheering Charm

**Ravenclaw**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House. 

**Huffelpuff**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 39:

Tala had given three pints of blood and taken some sort of potion to build up her supply so she could give more in a few hours. The reason why Remus was not healing as a Were should, was that someone had been carrying dried Wolf's Bane and it was now in his blood stream. A blood cleansing was impossible without the proper Medi Wizard training and though Starch knew a few charms that would work, they would only work on purely Human blood.

The male and female had worked on Remus and Tala for nearly an hour before the female announced that they needed to rest. The male, who had been hyper the entire time, followed her as docilely as a shadow. Starch was left to see to it that Remus got his blood and Tala did not exert herself. 

It was, to Sirius' mind, a strange request to make of a Vampire. To leave him in charge of blood? Did the Garoms really need their naptime that badly?

"He is not in need of a 'nap' as you put it," Starch glanced at the new bag attached to Tala's arm. It was filling at a normal rate and everything seemed to be going well. "He was pushing himself toward an episode just to keep active enough to help. Now that I have things under control he is trying to avoid the crash he set himself up for."

Sirius had the unsettling certainty that his mind had been read. "How did you-"

"I didn't read your mind," Starch cut him off, "I read your lips. Nearly everyone moves their lips when they are in deep thought." He chuckled softly, "He told me about this accident he had when Potter was mouthing some sort of insult at him a few weeks ago…a perfect example of using the person's own mind against them." His gray eyes narrowed as they rested briefly on the bead in Sirius' hair. "That old blue eyed fraud has used my every weakness against me so often, I should think he would be bored with me by now."

Sirius tucked the braid and bead behind his ear. "You don't have one," he noted.

Starch moved to check on Tala. "No. Our relationship is very different from what he will have with you." Pushing his hands into the pockets of his black lab coat, he met Black's eyes across the unconscious woman's form. "He threatened you, didn't he, what did he get you to believe that he would do?"

_'Should have known better than to look a Vamp in the eye,'_ Sirius could have smacked himself in the head. The numb tingle that comes with being under a Vampire's hypnotic control was not obviously present, but he knew that if the good doctor really wanted an answer, he would have one. "He trapped me and-"

"No," Starch shook his spiked mane. "I don't care what he actually **did.** I want to know what you **believed** he would do. There is a big difference between the two."

A Vampire who took the time to reason an answer out of a Human, was showing a great deal of respect for the Human, which is rare. Sirius looked at Tala. The potion they had given her, to increase blood production, had also put her to sleep. (A convenient side effect since she needed to stay still or risk severe nausea.)

Nervous, Sirius bit at his lower lip and turned away from the concerned gray eyes that bore into him now. Hugging himself, in a last effort to keep it in, he started to pace. Unconsciously keeping to the length of his cell, he spun on his heel and walked the same number of paces back. 

Something had happened, Starch could more than see the tension in the man before him, he could hear the racing of the Human heart and smell the old fear that was being reawoken. It was enough to make him worry. "Black," softly he called the man's name. He walked around to stand beside the narrow path that Sirius was following.

Head down Sirius kept pacing, but started to shake. Spasmodically he jerked his head back and forth, "No. He said he wouldn't, that's the end of it. It doesn't matter now. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Black," in desperation Starch grabbed his shoulders, and forced him to stop pacing. The shoulders, bony from years of being underfed, flinched violently at the first touch, then went still. He put as much sympathy and true desire to help into his words as he did his eyes. "Sirius, what happened." 

He didn't try to turn away, the hands on his shoulders held him still. Closing his eyes, to shut out everything. Black didn't know that Starch would recognize the gesture. 

The male did the same thing when he was unable to run anymore. A last ditch effort to hide from the truth.

The way he was standing, rigid with fear, trying to make himself smaller, gasping for each tiny breath and avoiding eye contact, Starch was starting to get an idea of what the connection between Sirius Black and the male was. 

"I thought he was going to kiss me." Sirius' words hung, like dead things in the cold, still, air.

_'The situation is different this time,'_ Starch forcibly reminded himself. _'There is no bond between myself and the Human here.'_ The male had always displayed a, frightening, ability to manipulate people and situations…_'He leaves me alone with Black knowing I'll question him. He knew I'd try to find the reason he wanted the Human in the first place… He wants me to know.'_ It made sense. Keeping Black at arm's length he tried to provide enough space to keep his words from being rejected. "He tries to seduce me, nearly every time we meet. Sex is the most powerful manipulative force he knows, and he uses it like a tactical weapon. He believes you can understand what is going on. That is why he gave you the lead, talk to Tala." He tried to emphasize the last three words, but wasn't sure if they got through. 

When Starch took the blood to Remus (Sirius still was not being allowed to see him.) Tala tried to sit up but fell back and closed her eyes.

"Could you give me a hand here?" She swallowed back the nausea and Sirius slowly helped her up. After a few breaths she opened her eyes and looked around for the first time. "Is this really his lab," she spoke softly, as though she were in a hallowed place. "I never thought I'd see him again, let alone get to see his lab."

"Well," he cast a critical eye over the cluttered tables and simmering brews, "as secret laboratories go, it's not too shabby." He grinned at her look of disbelief. Sliding back into his usual happy-go-lucky persona was easier than trying to ask about the male.

"Don't you know what this place is?!" 

Sirius tilted his head to one side. "His secret underground lair?"

"Rip would be so disappointed," she shook her head and returned Black's grin. "Don't tell me you are **that** new to the family!" At Sirius' confused expression her eyes went wide. "You are?! When did he mark you?" Indicating the bead in Sirius' hair. She then reached up to her own hair and ran an identical braid between her forefinger and thumb. The beads at the ends of the braids matched.

Sirius' smile faded and he looked away as he sat on his stool. Clasping his hands between his knees he hunched forward and tried not to loose the good mood he had started to convince himself into. "I dunno, two weeks maybe, maybe a little more. Family?" Questioning her words made it a conversation about her and not him. "What do you mean family? The way he talks it's more like I'm chattel." A huffed laugh and lopsided grin followed.

Tala laughed, "Oh, don't get me wrong! We're definitely his property, but haven't you noticed that there's more than just the one side to it?" Scooting back a little, she drew her legs up under her and smiled down at him. "I'll tell you my story. But you must understand that I have figured it out. You can't even consider sharing yours until you are sure you know the truth."

Black nodded when it became clear that she expected some sort of response. 

Tala shook her hair; it fell like a blanket around her shoulders and was just long enough to brush the steel slab. "My tribe was more than just my people, they were my family. When it was discovered that my father was a Dark Wizard, my mother and I were driven from our home and off the reservation land." She, unconsciously, began to imitate the warm smoky voice that her grandmother had used when telling the old tales. "I was only five years old at the time. I remember mother speaking with someone late at night. He was only a few years older than me, maybe he was eight or nine. But he was small; I was nearly as tall as he was. I remember mother begging him, but I don't remember exactly what she said. Only that the conversation ended when he asked to see me." Looking through the fog of many years, she did not notice the tears that misted her eyes. " When he was braiding my hair and threading the bead he said that he would take care of me. I did not understand what he meant."

"Your mother sold you to him," Sirius asked horrified at the implications.

Tala smiled, "I do not know what forced him to travel to America but he sought out my mother. Something had happened, a deep betrayal that he could not reconcile within himself. He saw the same sort of wound in me. He knew that he could heal my heart, though he could not heal his own. In healing me he was looking for, and maybe found, some sort of balance for himself."

"So he helps me with my problems and they just happen to be the same problems he has? If that's all there is to it why use the Marks?"

Smiling a little, Tala started to play with the braid and bead in her own hair. "Things are never that simple, and straight forward. There are so many levels of obligation and responsibility. He marked you for more than one reason. Yes he meant it as a constant reminder to you, but he also means for others to see it and know that you are under his protection."

Sirius needed to get the conversation away from where it was headed. Trusting the male was impossible. He would be used again, then thrown away with another secret that he could never tell. Except in his nightmares. "You seem to know him pretty well. I have to ask, what is going on between him and Snape? I've never seen them together, but they share quarters, are they lovers?"

"Snape?" Tala thought hard, but the name was foreign. 

Another piece was trying to click into place, but Sirius couldn't fit it in just yet. "Snape, ya, you now looks just like the male but with black eyes," he prompted.

She steepled her fingers before her mouth and rested her elbows against her knees. "No, I have never seen any one that I would say was a black eyes version of Rip. I have known him since last time- you do understand about time, right?"

'_Could I have been right the whole time? If I am right what does that mean for the female…is she the same? I can't ask Dumbledore and Moody. If I **am** right then they are in this to their necks.'_ Sirius pushed the braid behind his ear, again. It was fast becoming a nervous habit. "Time? Does it have any baring on what we were just talking about?"

"There was the time Before," she ticked one off on her forefinger. "He has referred to it only a hand full of times as far as I know. I asked him where he learned a certain thing and he said, 'I don't know, maybe it was before,' or things like that." Another finger went up, "There was Last Time. That was the time when I met him, and it seems to run from about two years before I met him, until about five years later. He would have been about fourteen." A third finger, and she shifted a little to relieve the pressure where the table was wearing at her. (She had also given skin for new grafts.) "There was a gap, I'm not really sure how long it lasted. I started to hear people talking about sighting him…maybe two or three years ago. The rumors were vague, and I didn't pay attention. I knew he'd contact me when he was ready. Meeting up with him at the UnderNewYork Wandering Market sure was a surprise." 

"That's where I saw you!" Finally he remembered the woman that had been in conversation with Remus as he returned to their little group after meeting with Cardigan. "You're the she Were that Remus has been writing to." The reminder of why they were there ended any sort of good mood they had been able to work up. "He really cares for you." A lame apology.

"I know." A pathetic attempt to hide the tremor in her voice.

She wiped at a tear and bowed her head, in silent prayer, he assumed.

~

By the next morning the blood transfusions had thinned out the concentration of Wolf's Bane in Lupin's system, enough that he had stabilized. The male and female decided that Remus could be safely transferred to the hospital wing. Since he needed only time to recover, his Were healing factor was coming back slowly, Madam Pomfrey reluctantly allowed it. Provided, of course, that he have a private room and that Tala created no disruptions to the Medi Witch's routine.

The transition was made early Wednesday morning, before the rising sun could become too bright for Starch to be in attendance. Head down, the male led the way back to the dungeon. His feet seemed to drag, and there was a weakness to his whole attitude that the Exotic Vampire found worthy of concern.

The male paused, and allowed the female to pass by. She went further down the hall, toward their rooms, and disappeared from sight. Sirius had insisted on staying with Remus. The Were had yet to wake for more than a few moments, and even then he was delirious. But friends are sometimes closer than blood, or lucidity. 

Alone now, Starch and the male each waited for the other to break the silence. Starch casually leaned back against one wall. The male crouched a little lower and sat against the wall beside him.

Faint sounds of life, that most never heard, filled the air. The castle unobtrusively redirected a staircase here, a passageway or two there. A few doors were made to open in the opposite direction, just for the fun of it. She knew that the students, and even some of the faculty, thought that the stairs had their own separate identities. In spite of their lack of understanding she loved every soul within her walls, and protected them as she had all of the others entrusted to her for the past one thousand years. 

Starch listened to the ebb and flow of Manna for several calming minutes. "I know."

The male did nothing to acknowledge the words.

"He was abused. Was it during his imprisonment?" He didn't really want to know. The truth would be something he could do nothing about. Yet the male had given him the opportunity to find the truth. So he needed to ask, the male needed him to ask.

The male's pupils were so wide that his eyes almost looked as black as someone else's. Considering his answer, though, his eyes began to glimmer as the pupils narrowed to vertical slits. "Some, mild, things were done while he was a young child. I knew that from Last Time. The guards at Azkaban are not exactly paragons of virtue. They visited his cell. I don't know much, only what I could get from one guard…after I broke him."

"He has not decided to trust you yet."

The male glanced over at the clear gray eyes that were so focused on his next response. "You know you'll never get more than I give you." Pain flickered across his friend's face. 

They both knew that neither would choose to unmake their friendship, but they both also knew that the relationship really went one way. Starch poured his heart into the dirt and the male could make no more sense of it than he could understand why **he** hated him to the point of self-destruction. 

Closing his blue eyes, the male tipped his head back and focused on the rough stones that ground into his scalp. He answered softly, "I don't need this one to trust me. I need him to obey me. Potter is his legal responsibility, as soon as the papers are approved, and if I am to protect the boy I need to be able to control Black."

"You could control him better if he trusted you-"

"**Well maybe I want someone else to suffer!** Is that what you want to hear?!" He hadn't intended to shout. 

"I want the truth. We both know you chose him because Voldemort has figured out how to hurt you."

"Have you got any idea how many Vamps I've let dry bite me?" The venom behind the words sank deep into Starch's heart. He continued with no apparent regard for the eyes that were now brimming with bloody tears. "I have been whoring myself for money, supplies, and information for more years than I have known you. Voldemort won't be able to do more than give me the chance to go nova and then I'll end it all. The Dark Lord, **him**, and my own illegitimate half-life, gone in an instant."

"Why." Starch choked out the single word around the denial lodged in his throat.

Through clenched teeth he growled back, "Because there is no point in fighting, I'm never going to atone for my mistakes."

@---'---,------------------

"Lumos." The child's voice whispered the simple command with the awe of a Muggle born who still looked at Magic as though it were…magic. To his great delight the tip of his wand began to glow a steady pale green. 

As quietly as small untrained feet could tread, he and his companion skittered from shadow to shadow. They were so new to sneaking around, that it didn't occur to them that the lit wand gave them away. Eventually, they made it to the main doors to the castle. Tentatively the smaller of the two tried the door handle first. It did not budge.

With a great sense of importance, and more than a little pride, the older boy drew his own wand and the younger stepped back to give him room.

"Alohamora." His pronunciation was a little off, and his flick was slightly wobbly, but the castle doors opened anyway. The adoration in his little brother's eyes was enough to make Colin Creevey feel taller than a full-blooded Giant. 

Together Colin and Dennis were out of their dorms, before curfew officially lifted, to take a picture of the Giant Squid. Colin thought that the setting moon would make nice reflections on the wet tentacles, and he wanted to test his new Wizards' film, supposedly it could take true- color photos at night.

Dennis was not the shutterbug that his brother was, but he desperately wanted the chance to break the rules, a little- he was a **Gryffindor** after all. Plus Colin needed someone to throw the bait. (Buttered sweet rolls they had stuffed in their pockets during dinner.)

When they reached the shore of the lake there was patchy cloud cover, and something being washed in on the waves. It was very large and when the wind shifted both boys had to try hard not to throw up because of the stench. Something had died and for a moment Dillon though it might have been the Squid, but Colin pointed out that it was not large enough and had no tentacles. 

"Then what is it," Dennis asked while pulling his robe up over his nose.

Colin stepped closer, the wind was blowing the putrid odor away from them for the moment. "Well…it, looks like…" he took another few steps and the clouds cleared enough for him to get a momentary glimpse. He never forgot the picture his mind took in that instant.

~ 

It came as a pleasant surprise to almost all of the students, that Charles Weasley had accepted the offer of temporary Care of Magical Creatures professor. The Order also found it convenient to have another member close to home.

Two students, both Creevey boys, were absent from breakfast. Most Gryffindors tried to avoid the Photo Fiend and so, thought that they were just having more success than usual. 

Dumbledore again mentioned the Halloween Ball, and with a fleeting glance at a few notoriously prank prone students, announced that there would be an extra event added to the night's festivities. 

"In the interest of better Magic to Muggle relations, we will be observing a few Muggle customs," his eyes twinkled.

Snape and Miss Moody came to breakfast late. Both avoided eye contact to hide their blue eyes and both resented the fact that they had to take seats with other people on either side.

"Severus," Albus smiled warmly and offered a tray pile high with meats of several breakfasty varieties. "So nice to see you this fine morning." To his great astonishment, the male accepted a few pieces of smoked sausage. His thick white beard covered most of his involuntary reaction, but the male cast him a sidelong glance anyway. 

"It's going to rain," the male murmured taking a long drink from his goblet. "I think I like the rain," he shrugged. "I suppose you must be right. So far."

Albus watched closely.

A little uncertainly the male cut his meat into very small pieces. Holding a single tiny cube on the end of his fork he smelled it, almost experimentally. Opening his mouth just enough to get the bite in he chewed more than was necessary and swallowed, quickly taking another sip of wine.

Albus turned to his own plate for a few minutes. "Severus…" caution was easily read in his tone. The male was listening, even though he did not make an acknowledging gesture. "Severus, will you be able to come to the Ball?" _'Wow, a nice safe subject. Why not ask him if he needs new socks because I'm heading into Hogsmead this weekend?'_

"I'm invited?"

The sincerity of his surprise shocked the aged Headmaster. "Of –" _'No, obviously it's not an of course type of situation. He didn't think he was invited. He never assumes he is invited.'_ "Yes, Severus, you are invited."

Another few bits of sausage were forced down before a quiet and tentative thank you was given.

~

That night, at the hurriedly called meeting of the heads of the Order of the Phoenix it was announced that Hagrid had been found.

"He was too long in the water to get more than basic curse related trauma diagnosed." The male lay on his back on the elegantly woven rug that bore the Slytherin crest. Arms crossed behind his head, ankles crossed, he did not look as though he had autopsied a colleague that morning. "She was able to do a quick model, usually there is less to work with, it's a positive match. Well there was still some hair, and enough blood to check too, but we were pretty sure from the start."

"And Lupin?" Rita sat stiffly cross-legged on the other side of the, table. 

Like the rugs, the table bore the familiar markings that they all knew, but this time it was more a piece of art than usual. A sand painting with a surprising variety of colors including red, blue, yellow and green all successfully matching the House shades. it was certainly beautiful, and different. 

"I suppose you mean more than 'Will he survive'…" Not bothering to open his eyes, he missed Rita's silent sneer. "I'm not sure why, but the She-Were has been rather devoted to him. He is calmer in her presence and I think she will continue to be a stabilizing force. He has nothing that we could use to identify the Death Eaters. I searched his memory, it's all frigged u-" He rolled into a low crouch so quickly that even Alastor jumped back. Eyes flaring to a blindingly bright intensity, he seemed to be listening to something beyond the haze that shrouded the secret council. 

No one moved.

After a long, breathless, time the male relaxed back onto his mat. Curling up so that he lay on his side with his upper body twisted so his chest was flat on the rug. Chin resting on crossed forearms he half closed his eyes and did not speak for the rest of the meeting. 

Against his better judgment, Albus left him alone. The male would not appreciate being interrupted. Even if it looked like he was only daydreaming.


	40. Fidelity

The things represented here are either mine (Starch as one example) or some one else's i.e. the large stone building where this chapter takes place (Hogwarts) which belongs to, well who ever owns the deed I suppose…but I know **nothing** about modern English laws of property ownership, and only a little about the ancient rules that governed such things in years past. 

**Gryffindor-120 Points- **Eizoku Is awarded 10 Points for being a know it all Gryffindor; Frogfoot earns 10 points for rather Slytherin flattery 

**Slytherin-220 Points- **Milee is awarded 10 points for pursuing power through controlling what people read; I did not get a House listing for you, Miss, but I feel safe in saying that Snape's #1 Girl receives 10 points for enthusiasm; La Pamplemousse again, based on tone I have decided to place you in Slytherin Miss, and you receive 10 points for well for being very Slytherin in your review

**Ravenclaw**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House. 

**Huffelpuff**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 40: 

Starch resembled a ghost; pale with a half-committed kiss from the grave. He stood motionless and silent, waiting for the male to deliver the potion to Tala. She was saying a prayer for the ill Were and her tear stained voice drifted to him in the hall. 

"The Great Father above a shepherd Chief is. I am His and with Him I want not. He throws out to me a rope and the name of the rope is love, and He draws me to where the grass is green and the water not dangerous, and I eat and lie down and am satisfied. Sometimes my heart is very weak and falls down but He lifts me up again and draws me into a good road. His name is WONDERFUL."

He saw the male pause. Something in the she-Were's words seemed to have caught his attention. _'His eyes are so hungry for things he doesn't believe in. Emotionally he has come so far… Those damn fools! How could they think that **more** memory altering and thought filtering charms were the answer?!'_

"Sometime, it may be very soon, it may be a long, long time," Tala continued speaking the familiar words. "He will draw me into a valley. It is dark there, but I'll be afraid not. For it is in between those mountains that the Shepherd Spirit will meet me and the hunger that I have in my heart all through this life will be satisfied." 

He saw the male flinch. Something had hit a soft place in his defenses… Starch closed his eyes, briefly, as a phantom memory drifted past. 

Suddenly he felt a shock of unfocused surprise as something wrapped around his neck. Fear crystallized quickly as he identified the something, a pair of hands intent on forcing him down into unconsciousness… Then in a blur, voices whispering to each other, a spell being cast- the released magic scenting the air with a silencing charm. Cold stones -the floor- hands at his back holding him down, pain, fear, blood, his neck -being held tightly- a sharp burning pain as his flesh tore- 

Starch jerked back to reality as a drop of blood-sweat slithered down his back. It was just a phantom, one of the few memories that had been shared when he drank the Other's blood.

"He gives me a staff to lean upon. He spreads a table before me with all kinds of foods. He puts His hand upon my head and all the "tired" is gone. My cup He fills till it runs over. What I tell is true. I lie not. These roads that are, 'away ahead,' will stay with me through this life and after; and afterwards I will go to live in the Big Tepee and sit down with the Shepherd Chief forever..."

_'The male doesn't believe that he has anything else to look forward to. That's why he acts with so little regard for the rules that govern Fair Play.' _

Though Remus had not given any sign that he knew she was there, he became agitated, thrashing and calling out strange half phrases, when Tala left his side for too long. 

'_Weres are all naturally clan oriented,'_ Starch reminded himself._ 'Even the non-canine based ones. For the first time in his life, I suppose, Lupin seems to have let his guard down… It wouldn't take much for his pack-starved psyche to drive friendship to love…' _ He had to laugh at himself, '_But am I thinking about Lupin, now, or the male? No, Lenore was right, there are too many things that need tending to. I'll have to speak with Albus and Alastor.' _Starch watched through the partially open door as Tala wiped her eyes and rose to her feet. 

"Rip?" She did not release Lupin's hand. 

The male indicated the goblet on the table. "You need to get two doses down before the moon." 

She wrinkled her nose at the smell but downed it anyway, then tried to hand over the empty goblet. Starch caught the male's involuntary flinch. 

"Ok." Setting it on the table instead, she tugged at the thin braid in her hair and blindly reached back for Remus' hand. "You haven't acted like this since before I figured out the rules. Have I done something wrong? Rip, please…"

The male took the goblet and closed the door,after making sure that she was not in need of anything. He did not answer her questions though.

_'Tala needed him when she was a child, she always will, on some level, but now she also needs Lupin. How will he react to this? How much does he understand?' _Starch made up his mind. They needed to talk. 

Surprised he stumbled back when the male walked right into him. Flinging one hand out to find his lost balance point, his other hand automatically sought some sort of grip on the male, and ended up clutching the male's right arm.

"Let go of me." 

With his free hand he finger combed his, strange, gray-spotted, hair. "We need to talk."

The male tried to push past him. "No we don't," he growled.

"Your breath rattles so loud that a Human could track you," he punctuated the statement with a jerk on the male's arm. "You've started eating," another jerk, "you didn't even know I was standing here-" He released the male's arm and roughly grabbed a fist full of stringy black hair, forcing the darkly blue eyes to meet his. "Do you really think I don't remember what happened at the end of Last Time?" 

The male shoved against his chest. The weakness of the gesture was more alarming than effective. 

"We need to talk," he tried to keep his voice low and calm. Inside he felt the world falling apart around him. Running his fingers through the male's hair he tried not to think about the last time the male had regressed; things had gone very badly for everyone. 

"No, we don't. Now let me go." 

This time the male gave a less than half-hearted twitch. The hallway, right outside of the Werewolf's sick room, was not the place for the kind of talk Starch had in mind. 

"Well we're going to talk anyway." Grabbing the male by the arm again and dragging him along, he glanced right and left at each intersection that they came to. "Why couldn't you have told me details about the above ground portion of this place," he demanded in exasperation. "Sometimes you take control too far." 

Eventually he found what he was after, a place no one else was likely to overhear anything that they shouldn't. Trying the door latch, and finding it locked, his eyes flashed yellow for the instant that it took to force the lock with his Vampiric power.

"Starch!" 

Closing the door Starch leaned back against the male's only exit. He bought some time by taking a moment to fish his sunglasses from a pocket. "When I said we would talk," he peered through the smoky green lenses, "I meant I would talk and you would listen and agree."

The male hissed through his teeth and started to pace the small room's back wall. "Fine then, get this over with."

Another sudden shift in emotional reaction, the male was not nearly as balanced as he would like. Sighing deeply he let his head fall forward. "When did you give up?" He loosely crossed his arms over his chest but did not look up.

The male stopped pacing and looked at him with curious eyes. "What do you mean? I did not 'give up'. Giving up implies an outside force that poses opposition."

"You **are** giving in to outside forces!" Starch scrubbed both hands through his hair in a late effort to regain control of his frustration. "You are not a mindless puppet."

"I am not an independent individual either Starch." The male advanced as he spoke. "I'm not even real. Sometimes you worry me, you talk to me as though I really existed."

Suddenly it felt like the male had him trapped, even though he was the one that still blocked the door. _'He's just trying to manipulate the situation. It's not even him talking. I must have tripped a charm! Ok, so getting him to acknowledge this directly isn't going to work, maybe I can get him to understand through a parallel?' _"Have you had any fruit yet?"

"Fruit? Pieces yes." The male was obviously skeptical of such a switch in topic, but he was also backing off a bit. Not quite as threatening or inside Starch's personal space anymore.

"Good," _'So we got away from the trigger then…'_ "So what fruit do you like best?" 

"Is this something you got from Lenore?" The male quirked an eyebrow at him. "I suppose it'd be Kiwi. Marrying a psychiatrist might have been a bad move for you. Couldn't you have fallen for an artist or some sort of fashion model instead?"

"I did not **fall** for Lenore. We were designed to be together, and it really wouldn't have mattered what she had been. You'd have had a problem with anything. Why do you like Kiwi?" 

Lupin had spent a great deal of time with the male over the past two years and could now follow some of what he said. Having actually absorbed some of his essence, through drinking his blood, Starch was able to speak with the male in the way that the male spoke. It was confusing at times, but any advantage was better than none.

He waited for the male to decide whether or not he would, or even should, answer.

"It's sweet and prickly and soft and tart. It contradicts itself. I think it's sort of funny that way. Plus the name, kiwi, what's with a name like that?" The male huffed a small chuckle, not quite a laugh, but close enough.

_'Of course'_ Starch thought while unscrambling what the male was really saying. _'He identifies with his charges and the people he places his mark on, why not his food too…now there's an idea…' _"That's practically two separate natures in one skin. Soft and sweet, but spiny and tangy, you could almost say that it was like two different fruits." He paused to gauge the male's reaction; he nodded. Taking an extra moment to make sure that no charms were beginning to activate, he gave one final push. "You are a Kiwi."

For a split second something clicked. He saw it in the male's eyes; something had connected. Then suddenly a massive charmed psychological defense kicked in and the male dropped, unconscious, to the floor. In a blur Starch was at his side catching him before he could hit the stones. 

Several minutes later he gave up trying to wake the male. It appeared that some sort of coma had been activated. After making sure that all of the male's vitals were normal, for him, he carefully drew the limp creature into his arms and began to search for the entrance to the dungeons. 

"Damn them for meddling where they knew they shouldn't," he growled to the empty halls, and his unconscious burden. 

_~_

"So you just left him alone?!" Alastor Moody growled at him.

The old man had been growling since before he had made it into the Headmaster's sitting room, and he didn't seem close to stopping any time soon. Finally Starch had had enough and snapped back, with Vampiric cool, "I couldn't find the stomach to watch over him until Snape woke up." Shaking his head trying to either, make the pieces fit, or erase the whole mess. Starch jerked to his feet and stalked to the window. 

The cold, clear, Wizards' glass held his weight and did not fog with his breath when he addressed the reflections of the two men behind him. "The male, he does your bidding out of loyalty. Not obligation or compulsion but true Slytherin loyalty. Do you know what that means?" His voice was flat. Emotionless. Some one else's. "It means unthinking, unconditional trust in **you** Albus Dumbledore. He would let you Crucio him because he would assume that your actions were for the best. Slytherin loyalty is hard won and never lost. He trusts you because of what happened Before."

Starch had no reflection. In his place the two Wizards' ghostly doubles thinned before the rising moon.

"I have Phantom Memories of his first two years here. Some times though, during the day when I'm resting, Lenore says that I dream. She say's that I some times slide from my own dreams into something like a Phantom Dream. Huge tanks filled with life-fluids. Long, featureless, white halls with white doors. Nearly identical children walking in straight rows. I dream of the time Before…" Desperation turned him to face the Wizards. "Tell me of the time Before," he pled. "Tell me why these two were chosen to survive until they were seven years old, and tell me how far you are willing to go for them." The silver moon back-lit him and turned his dapple-gray Satyr hair to white gold with lead spots, and cast his face in shadow. "Being based, at least in part, on Vampires they will require blood. Your blood."

It was Moody, not Dumbledore, who answered him. The belligerence in his voice had abated some, but his thundering heart proved he was not calm. "In Great Britain we focused on Magic based advancements in the sciences and technologies. The Americans though had a different idea. They worked to integrate Magic with Muggle and made advancements, but of the same type that the Muggles were working toward. Due to the Magical augmentations to their equipment they were able to maintain a lead of fifty years or more." 

"Alastor," Dumbledore raised a cautioning hand. Moody disregarded his warning and continued.

"The Americans provided the DNA mapping and gene splicing, the Ministry provided the potions designed to control growth and the expertise with charms that allowed us to program ancestral memory." 

Staring out the window again, Starch became aware of something fluttering against his pant leg. Glancing down he was mildly annoyed to find that his hand was shaking, they both were. Bringing his hands up, he watched as the shaking became more pronounced. Alastor's words began to filter through. "I'm sending for Lenore." Even his voice was shaking now.

A quick note was sent via floo, a reply came a short time later. Lenore needed a few minutes to close their offices and cancel a dinner date with a friend. 

Lenore was a dark crypt when Starch found himself caught in the sun. He needed her now. But even in comparing her to a place of ultimate safety, he'd used a reference from his past with the male.

No conversation happened while the three waited, no one had been consulted about bringing in a fourth person, and no one was interested in arguing with an Ancient who seemed to be on the verge of hysterics or shock. 

Lenore had on a pale lavender robe with cream colored piping at the lapels and sleeves. It was obviously one of her office robes, but she somehow made it seem casual. 

Taking a few seconds to straighten her robe and hair (and to allow the rooms occupants a chance to see her) she glanced toward Starch. 

Traces of nymph (several generations back) lingered in her sea green tinged, pale blonde hair. Her eyes, a soft sea-blue, held a quiet joy that made her unremarkable mid fortyish body seem to glow with youth.

Starch still stood with his back to the room, but he was watching the reflections in the glass. He watched as Lenore offered her hand to Dumbledore.

Her smile was genuine. Starch thought back for a moment, on how her outgoing nature had bothered him in the beginning. Vampires are not generally brimming with excitement at the prospect of meeting new people. People die, and if they don't, there's no real rush to make an introduction. '_She always says meeting a stranger, never happens. It's just being introduced to a friend she hadn't met.'_

The little threesome seemed to be getting along fine-

"Hello Headmaster. It would seem that you have quite the reputation to live up to, if you plan to be half as marvelous as the third-hand tales I have heard."

_'And the old man has no idea that she's already got him on her side.' _The corners of his mouth managed to twitch up, for a fraction of an instant when she gave her opening volley, and sealed the lid on any suspicions that were being harbored against her.

Starch wasn't surprised that she had some sort of comment for the retired Auror too, not so light and a great deal less flattering but some how she now owned the room. Her laugh, a less than melodic but very real sound, brought the confrontation to the level of an informal meeting among friends. 

Albus motioned them to the table and conjured a fourth chair. Starch resumed his seat and held out his hand to Lenore. Focusing his thoughts on what had been said, and what his heightened senses had added to his understanding of their emotional states. He was able to make her relive the meeting as though she had been there in his shoes, thanks to her special combination of Telepathics and Psy-touch. 

Through the brief handshakes she had shared with Albus and Alastor she was clued in on far more than anyone else knew, and quietly settled into her professional role of mediator and councilor. 

Albus offered tea, then vanished the tray. _'Buying some time to get his thoughts straight?'_  Starch did not glance at Lenore for confirmation, instead he reach out and took her hand under the table. **_'Do you think he will tell us enough to help them?'_**

He waited for her quiet inner voice. 

**_'It is not so much a question of whether or not they will, as whether or not they can. Dumbledore and Moody were not involved in the technicalities, but they know a great deal about the general things involved in the program.'_**

He squeezed her fingertips in silent thanks and tried to steel himself against hearing his best friend talked about like he was a specimen in a jar...still.

Albus picked up the narrative, "I was not, technically, on the project. I was more of a liaison. I know that for some time the Ministry had been working on breaking the coding that the Atlantians used when transcribing their scientific work. When the codes were broken the Ministry quickly began translating some of the, more interesting, documents. Most turned out to be trivial experiments or things that were no longer of interest to society. They also found the logs that covered the trans-species eugenics experiments that led to the formation of the Garom race."


	41. Separation

**Gryffindor-130 Points- **Frogfoot is awarded 10 points for classic Gryffindor loyalty

**Slytherin-230 Points- **Milee receives 10 points for learning the importance of being patient

**Ravenclaw**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House. 

**Huffelpuff**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

There were two anonymous reviewes that I could not assign to any House. If you review please tell me which House you belong to, I also know where you can find some good quizzes if you're interested in being sorted.

Chapter 41: 

Snape seemed to have taken night shift, so it was the male who actually attended the first Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch match of the year. Even with Harry-bloody-Potter the Gryffindors would have to work hard to win this match. But he chose not to say anything about the Slytherin Secret Weapon, instead, stoically, he accepted Black's offer of a five Galleon wager on the game's outcome. 

As the male and his little entourage (made up of Black, a rapidly recovering Lupin, Tala, and the female) exited the school the mildly overcast sky didn't indicate rain. Nor did it imply any sort of high winds. A slight drizzle, that let up before the two teams even made it to the pitch, was all the bother the sky saw fit to bestow upon the gathered throng.

The male found the game amusing, but rather boring. Instead he focused on the female's reactions. She had never seen a British Quidditch match.

"This is not at all how we played in Durmstrang," she nearly pouted. "The first ten minutes and not even any blood! Let alone a substitution because of injury."

His lips did not move, but he knew his amusement was obvious to her. Black had been paying mild attention to what she had been saying, then had gone pale and focused on the game. _'Picturing little Potter out there with an opposing team like that. I think, given half the chance he would smother the boy in safety charms.'_ Which provided another amusing mental image. Tipping his head to indicate Black then glancing at the field, was all that the female needed to share in the joke…_'But why? Why do we understand each other so easily? Starch and I communicate like this because he is a part of me- or I'm a part of him. She and I don't…have…any-'_

The game was over. He blinked again the score was still the same, one hundred sixty to one hundred fifty. _'Another time gap, judging by the sun, this gap was at least four hours long-'_

"Well?" Black was in his face, "You gonna take it or what?"

Dazedly he accepted the five Galleons that were spilt into his hand. The female gently pulled at his sleeve, subtly enough that no one seemed to notice.

"Oh yes I agree with you there," she carried the conversation for both of them as they made their way back to the castle. "Your new Beater is something worth seeing. I think that Livida Sperare will need careful watching over. The professional league is dominated by Durmstrang graduates, with good reason. But it seems Hogwarts has a few gems in her pockets."

@--'---,--------------

Sirius' annoyance with the male over the bet was forgotten when he spotted his godson, practically crawling away from the pitch. "Harry!" He called then jogged to catch up. "Harry, that was a great game."

"We lost." He said it like Sirius had forgotten how the game was played.

Sirius grabbed one Gryffindor red sleeve before Harry could hide in the locker room. "You played your heart out Harry, no one could ask for more."

"I should have waited," Harry's frustration came through in the tears collecting on his lashes. "If I hadn't tipped Malfoy about the snitch we could have scored a few goals. Even two would have been enough."

Sirius remembered all the times he had watched Remus talk to James after a loss. _'Now it's my turn I guess…fat lot that helps. What would Remus do?'  _He pulled Harry away from the door and back toward the now empty stands. His godson had grown some, but hadn't inherited his father's height, which made it easier to push him into a seat. "Harry," Sirius waited for the Lilly-green eyes to glance his way. "Do you think Malfoy is a hopeless Seeker?"

Harry hunched his shoulders and grudgingly admitted, "Not really, I guess. I mean he's gotten better since first year."

"Then there's the possibility that he would have gotten the Snitch if you had tried to throw it, right?" A pathetic –Guess'o- was all he got. "James lost games for his team y'know." 

Harry shot Sirius a look for the slight against his father.

"We were best friends, you know that," He added quickly. "But I knew that he wasn't playing his best all the time. Some times he was distracted, thinking about a quiz, or a certain git of a Slytherin. Sometimes he was just in a bad mood, or hungry. When he played his best and still lost, no one that really mattered to him felt let down. You don't think Ron and Hermione feel bad because Harry lost the game do you?"

The way his godfather had stopped at Harry, like he was just a guy and not some super-hero, connected. Harry took a deep breath and nodded.

"Harry." Sirius lay a hand on one young shoulder and squeezed, '_I wonder if this is how Remus felt when he grabbed my shoulder the day after I fell off the stairs. Was Moony unable, for once, to come up with the right words too?'_  The thought was strangely comforting. "You didn't let your friends or your team down. And you didn't let me down either." When Harry gave him an acknowledging grin, Sirius immediately moved back to less volatile ground. "So, who're you taking to the dance?"

~

Ron and Hermione sashayed into the Dining Hall, arm in arm, and looking exactly as Sleeping Beauty and her true love should. 

The general guideline of, "…something Muggle, preferably from their literature or a specific time era…" was observed, even by Slytherin House. Though five Slytherins who had strongly protested the whole, "Get in touch with your inner Muggle," idea, wore their usual black robes and cloaks. (When asked they said that they had come as Gregorian Monks.)

The male waited motionlessly in the dark as Albus stood and raised his hands for quiet. 

"The purpose of tonight's festivities is to have fun." The Headmaster waited a moment for the cheering/howling to stop. Then continued, with a chuckle. "Several activities and traditional foods based upon the Muggle celebration of Halloween have been prepared." This wasn't exactly news, nearly everyone had already started trying the odd pies and candies that were laid out on the, deceptively small, tables scattered around the edges of the Dining Hall. "I am also pleased to introduce to you a very special musical group called, Nearly Princes…"

The lighting rebalanced and a stage became more obvious. The band was made up of, what appeared to be, bondage-clad punks. All had their heads bowed and seemed, not so much frozen, as waiting for some spark of life to set them in motion.

Speaking with his head still lowered, the lead singer's slightly accented voice drifted over the assembly.  "Some time in the mid to late seventies, The Ministry began passing new regulations that the younger generation felt were unacceptably restrictive..." His soft speech and slow trailing into silence added to the not-quite-animate air that they all held. "In response they began a form of passive protest. Identifying themselves with oppressed or slave races… Some went so far as to join Centaur herds or dress and work as House Elves… Others, like ourselves looked further back…and found an obvious parallel between the current times and the political and social climate that allowed for the enslavement of the Garoms… Leather harnesses and collars," one of his hands seemed to have decided to raise itself to indicate the costume he wore, "torn shirts and pants became a symbol for the overall protest… Bands, like ours, that jumped the gap and played in Muggle clubs and taverns were the foundation for the Muggle Goth subculture… Your Headmaster has asked us to come tonight, to give you a chance to feel the connections between Magic and Muggle…between time and place…thought and voice…This will be one of our usual performances, which means that no Magic will be used…"

The male heard the quiet noises of children asking their friends if they knew what was going on. Some looked around for Muggle-borns that they knew, but most waited to see what would happen next.

The band ran through a selection of slow Muggle rock from the late seventies and early eighties, Hotel California being the most energetic thing they touched before their first break

After the first song (or two) dancers were back in the clear space in front of the platform. Some danced alone, swaying and weaving as they felt the music pulling them. Others lay their heads on the shoulder of their partner and listened to the beating heart and sighing breaths.

~

"Have you guys seen Sunna Clausen?" Harry asked when he finally caught up with Ron and Hermione. "My Wand is missing."

Ron instantly forgot about timing his steps. "Harry, taking some one's Wand is serious, if you're sure it was her then we need to tell the Headmaster." Anything to get out of proving what a bad dancer he was!

Hermione laughed and shook her head at Ron. "Not his real Wand, the Wand for his costume…he's a Muggle Magician…" She proceeded to explain, in full Granger-detail, as much as she could remember about the Muggle magician who had performed at her five year old cousin's birthday party. 

"Sorry Harry," Ron gasped, laughing at the newfound Muggle absurdity. He used his sleeve to scrub the tears from his eyes. "Haven't seen your stick, have you asked Aidan? Hey, where's your date?"

Swallowing guiltily Harry pointed behind Ron. 

Ron turned and nearly knocked over a redheaded bunny. "Oh, sorry Ginny. C'mon Harry, who's the mystery girl," he joked, until he turned back to see Harry's face. Mouth open he shot a look back at Ginny, then Harry. "My sister?!"

"You can't kill me Ron, we're in public," Harry half joked.

"My sister?!"

"Hey!" Fred and George plowed into the middle of the group, effectively defusing the outrage Ron was trying to work up.

"Lovely costume Mione," George gushed. Taking her hand he proceeded to make a rather large show of kissing it. "Didn't know you could blush such a lovely shade of red." George winked and released her hand.

"I can't believe you two have permission for those…costumes," Hermione retorted. Trying valiantly to shift the focus away from the fact that she was blushing, badly.

A few cleverly placed clusters of grape leaves were all that stood between the Weasley twins and total nudity.

"We're Greek gods," Fred asserted, with pride, adjusting the laurel wreathe on his head. 

"Besides," George added, wickedly, "We haven't been caught yet."

"Harry, Houdini… Right?" Fred asked, turning to the Wand-less magician. Harry and Hermione's surprise was almost comical. "One of the world's most famous tricksters, and they think that his being a Muggle could keep us from knowing about him?" Fred asked George with mock outrage.

"Hardly." The mocking purr caught them all off guard.

Harry wasn't the only one to lurch back a step when he saw who had snuck up on them.

"Harry Houdini got himself out of trouble. He didn't rely on dumb luck or third party intervention." 

The students stared in shock. And horror. Lots of horror. Too much horror to become angry over what had been said.

"Pro-professor, Snape?" Ron managed to squeak.

"We're turning the future over to them you know?" The male slanted a despairing look at the female, who was standing by his side.

"More than a bit worrisome," she gravely nodded.

The fake Professor Moody was dressed as a woman of the Victorian era. She had on a pair of, the then newly invented, Bloomers instead of a more socially acceptable dress. Black silk and fine lace were dominant yet stern. Half gloves and a top hat, with a sheer black veil in the back, completed the Victorian version of a rakish, modern, woman. 

The students didn't even register her. Next to the male she was positively blasé.

The male, for his part, was dressed in his casual best. The same clothing he wore to the Raven and the Wandering Market; tight black jeans and shirt, long midnight-green duster jacket, and the gloves collar and boots from his Garom uniform. Tonight though he also had heavy black makeup on his eyes and lips and black nail lacquer.

"Pro-Pro-" Fred stammered.

"Now why would I do that, Mister Weasley?" the false Snape sneered while adjusting a glove. "Telling your Head of House would ruin the fun of seeing her discover you for herself." He turned back to the female, "Break is nearly up. The next should be long enough to actually-"

"You're in the band!" Ron finally screeched. 

When the Potion Master turned back to them, Ginny gasped, "You've got blue eyes!" 

"But you're too old to be in a band," Harry wanted to curse himself for saying that  out loud.

"I am filling in for the drummer, Misters Potter and Weasley. Congratulations on noting the obvious Miss Weasley, my eyes have always been blue. Sadly blue eyes are most susceptible to the chemical overload that happens when one becomes serious about Potions as a field. Their color was the first thing I lost when I started my independent research. Now if you will excuse me, I am due back on stage in three minutes." As he walked away his open jacket flared wide, like deep green bat's wings.

When the students were able to tear their eyes away from the door their Potion Master had passed through, they discovered that Professor Moody had also disappeared. 

~

Bobbing for apples, pumpkin carving and popcorn balls were all fun, but the haunted house that had been set up in one of the rooms that adjoined the Dining Hall…that took some working up to. The Mugle-borns tended to run through it, mostly to see what a Wizarding version of a Muggle haunted hose would be. Then they started trying to get their Wizard-born friends to go in.

The fact that there were no real Bogarts or Poltergeists involved (not even a Ghost) made the whole thing much more frightening.  Things jumping out at you, loud noises, disgusting slimy things to touch…and all of it was Magic free.

Draco was pale as a sheet when he finally exited, much to Ron and Harry's delight.

But Harry and Ron were laughing just a little too loudly, and Hermione and Ginny dared them to go through.

@---'----,-----------

The male saw Neville drifting past when he spoke to Potter and his cohorts. He made a point of catching Longbottom's eye.  When he turned to leave, his right hand subtly made the same motion that Neville had learned, from their training sessions, to interpret as, "Do what I just did," or (hopefully) "Follow me."

Slipping out of the Ball was no problem no one noticed his exit, except for Longbottom, and he had meant for him to see. _'Now though, I have to wait and see if Longbottom was actually able to catch the signal and interpret it correctly.'___

"Where's Professor Moody?" Neville asked as soon as he caught up.

"I won't be able to have lessons with you this coming week." The male ignored Neville's question.  After a silent moment he acknowledged, "You are beginning to see the difference between having an irrelevant point ignored, and actually being ignored as a person. Good."_ 'I hate it when Starch is right about things like childhood conditioning. On the plus side though, Longbottom did follow the signal.'___

"Will you be continuing to take over his classes?" 

Absently he noticed that at some point over the past few weeks Neville had started using his style of reference for him. "I believe so," he murmured, allowing time for Longbottom to figure out how to get the information he wanted.

"There was something you wanted to see me about?" Neville cautiously prompted.

They walked in silence for a few more paces. "I have a child." The male did not change pace or tone, he didn't even look at Neville, but he was weighing every beat of the boy's heart, and the air around them. Looking for clues as to how much trust could be placed upon the young Gryffindor.

"This is a thing you haven't told many," Neville couldn't find much to be shocked or disturbed about. "Is that w- The reason behind telling me is…" 

_'Almost asked why. The boy is learning fast. Might have made a decent Slytherin after all.'_ "You are picking up my speech patterns. Maybe you should socialize more with your peers?" 

"Who wants to hang out with a kid they don't even remember?" 

He knew Neville had meant it to come off as a joke, but it fell flat. 

"Besides," Neville shrugged, "You said I'd be dangerous until I was fully trained, and that I could take the gloves off then."

A door stopped their progress. Some noise seeped through the thick hardwood; the band relaxing between sets.

"I will not be around much longer. My time is up. The child can no longer count upon my protection, but you…" his eyes burned into Neville's. "You can protect the child. You have heard of The Order?" With ease he caught Neville's eyes with his own. Pushing through the layers of life that separated them, as Starch had taught him to, the male's blue eyes blazed even brighter, nearly white now. "I offer you induction. Once you decide you will contact me. You will remember nothing of this conversation except that our lessons will be canceled for next week-"

~

With a shock Neville came to. A door had just been shut. He was alone in a hall…and it took him a long time to find his way back to the Halloween Ball.

@--'---,----------------

He stood in the now empty room with his back to the door, until he felt Neville begin to walk back down the hall. It was a nasty business, messing with a person's mind and memory, but it had needed to be done. '_A First Generation Wizard was something that The Dark Lord, several other parties- and maybe even the Headmaster,'_ he added darkly,_ 'would kill to possess. The fewer who know of the child's existence the fewer possible threats, and Longbottom is hardly a threat.'  _He rubbed aching eyes and darted through the door that lead to the stage, drumsticks in hand.__


	42. Thoughts

This chapter is dedicated (with many apologies) to my readers who have been waiting and fighting off hopelessness at a next chapters likelihood. I am also dedicating this chapter to an anonymous reviewer. *Laughs while picturing Mary Sues marching in formation*

**Gryffindor-140 Points- **Frogfoot is awarded 10 points for doing a proper review (or any review at all

**Slytherin-230 Points- **if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**Ravenclaw**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House. 

**Huffelpuff**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 42:

The male gulped half his goblet of vodka (courtesy of the female) before making his first real appearance as Snape. His costume had been toned down somewhat. The harness collar and gloves he had left in the group's makeshift backstage room. The cold liquor burnt his throat and the sight of Albus Dumbledore in a tie-dyed shirt and round pink-lensed sunglasses was enough to make him wish he hadn't been left in charge for the night. "Headmaster, McGonagall. Pomfrey."  He nodded to each.

The deputy Headmistress was known for her love of romantic Muggle opera (known among the staff that is). Her favorite opera, Swan Lake, brought tears to her eyes every time she saw it. A rather pretty tiara accented with downy feathers, and a flowing, white, multi-layered dress gave an impression of the tragically enchanted heroin from the story.

"Good heavens, Severus!" Minerva cried. "You look so," her hand wavered in the air as she struggled for the right adjective. 

"Androgynous?" he supplied mock-helpfully. 

"Is that alcohol?" She prudently ignored his self-directed slight.

Taking another, smaller, sip the male turned to his master. "You said Muggle, I did as you requested."

The Headmaster's bright eyes twinkled in a rather disturbingly cryptic fashion. "I can see that Severus." The old Wizard had the audacity to chuckle. "Androgynous is not precisely the word I would choose. Surprising, is more accurate I believe."

The scent and emotions that the Headmaster was giving off suggested more than surprise. _'Fear, but excitement too. Like something is happening that he half dreads and half longs for…he never knew about the band so the costume means nothing to him. What else- could it just be that I cleaned my hair? Could taking all that time to bathe, have a meaning to him?' _The male had gone to a bit of trouble to clean the oils from his hair and skin. The effect was temporary and the chemicals were harsh, but he honestly looked clean, and would all evening. '**_He_**_ will most likely have me pulling double shifts for the next few days, until the rash goes away.'_ His decision to come as a Muggle, i.e. without the PMR symptoms, was going to cost him,but double shifts would free up time for work for the Order. _'Why do I always loose when it's a matter of sacrifice?' _

"I suppose," Poppy smiled icily, "that you had go to a lot of trouble, washing your hair, to come as a Muggle freak like the rebels that the…singer, described?" The Medi-Witch for her part was dressed in green scrubs; the sort that a Muggle surgeon would wear.

"And I suppose," he quickly wracked his brain for the name of the character that Black had mentioned in one of his Muggle-land gushings, "that you are-" 

A prickling, more sensed than felt, trickled down his spine. Retorts fled at the sudden awareness of focused attention. It was becoming familiar now. The female was watching him. Not finishing his response to Pomfrey's comment on his appearance, he let his eyes drift. Not bothering to excuse himself he left the small group to find the female. He found her, with his usual ease, but did not approach immediately. She was not looking at him. Not indirectly, through a reflection, or by brief glances, or as she panned the crowd, and not even from the edge of her vision. She was politely engaging **Lupin** in conversation. '_The bleeding Were wouldn't even be here if I hadn't been able to finish the new serum.'  _Deep in his chest something was trying to turn over. '_It's a freaking full moon and he can't spend it with Tala?' _The –something- convulsed in a spasmodic lurch when the female gave Lupin one of her quiet smiles. 

The resulting emotional convulsion forced an unguarded reaction. His eyes widened and he jerked his head back a fraction, just enough to set his hair swishing against the dark green of his duster. Panicking at the emotional vulnerability he sharply turned away only to be faced with a group of wide-eyed Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seventh year girls, who had been staring at him for sometime. 

_'Obviously not recognizing the bane of their young existence.' _Sarcasm was an old friend and something familiar. The familiar was always calming. Except for his next, all too familiar thought, _'If **he** found out that anyone but the Headmaster Mcgonagall and Pomfrey knew…I'd go back to the cage. Forever.'_

"Well?" he snarled. The realization of how precarious his position was had brought him back to full control.

The girls nudged one another for a moment then tried to answer, all at once, "You look like Trent Rezno." "You have beautiful hands." "Can I touch your hair?" "You have the sexiest mouth." Much blushing squealing followed. 

As the band's cold and aloof drummer he did not smile but shifted his stance to lean slightly in toward the girls. This was the part he had chosen to play. Every band needs a member who acts like he has ice in his veins and a heart sized hole in his chest.

Before the last masked girl could dash off in a storm of giggles, he cornered her. She had on a short blue jumper, white leggings, a wide black belt and a mask with huge blue eyes and blonde ponytails. Speaking with a soft purr, he stepped even closer. "Thank you Miss Witherbourn." '_She had thought herself anonymous behind her mask. Even without being able to see her eyes I couldn't miss her scent. Or her excitement at my invasion of her space.'_ He nearly laughed at her youthful emotionality. 

Abandoned by her Housemates she swallowed and tugged at the skirt of her Muggle costume. "You smell nice too." She was obviously trying to say something more. He waited until she could hold it in no longer. "How old are you- I mean-" she gasped at her own forwardness, "I mean that Professor Weasley says you were in school together, that you were a few years ahead of him." Her eyes skittered back down. "Is Side-strike your real name?"

He tilted his head down, a few lazy black waves fell forward and he could feel her longing to touch the, grease-free, strands. "Miss Witherbourn, when you wish to pick up a snake the safest way to do so is to grasp it firmly just behind the head." She looked up into his eyes and seemed entranced by his voice. Even though he wasn't trying to snare her. "As a snake's fangs point down from its upper jaw, holding it behind the head prevents the animal from being able to reach any flesh to bite." He placed one hand on the wall to the side of her head and leaned against it. "A Side Strike though has fangs pointing perpendicular to normal. If you attempt to pick it up you will be bitten. And die in a very few hours. Are you so enamored of self punishment that you would actually waste your time on me?" He had to take a step back so that she could run away in confused humiliation. _'Well at least she didn't recognize me.'_

"She's pert."

A more appropriate target of his torment took up the bait. The male turned to the band's fishnet and leather clad bas guitarist. "She's also my student, Gaf," he tossed the hair back from his face.

Tall and lanky the young Irishman tried to draw out a smile from everyone he met. Making friends with the band's drummer had been his life's mission, ever since he had been told it was impossible, "…on account of the freak bein' a walkin' corpse..." 

"Aye, bu' come th' end o' next term an' she'll be leegal. 'Leven yars is nuthin' t' us." Gaff was still trying, after all these years.

"Unless you are offering yourself…" he stripped Gaf with his eyes. "Don't ever talk to me about this again."

"Tis a cold mistress, yer brand of emotional celibacy is." Gaf's tone was pained. The male had hit his target, rebuffing yet another sincere offer of friendship. "But ye take et t' th' extreme, Side-strike." He looked away, "I've got'a mingle. O', there was sum'un wantin' a word wi' ye. A Charlie, or sumthin'." The last was thrown over his shoulder as he drifted into the crowd to answer questions and flirt.

He clenched one fist. _'Bugger,_' the male thought as he slunk away victorious. _'The only Charlie I know that would want anything to do with me in a social setting,while I'malive, is the first Weasley whelp.'_

Finding Professor Weasley was not hard. The newest addition to the faculty had a gaggle of admiring girls hanging on his every word as he described some encounter with- as expected, a Dragon.

"Fascinating I'm, sure," the fraudulent Snape broke in, "but not terribly Muggle." He saw the slight tensing of Weasley's shoulders and neck at his tone, as the interruption scattered the admiring listeners. When Weasley turned to face him though, the redheaded weasel had regained his composure enough to smile. Letting a breath out in a slow hiss he tried to remain calm. _'Does anyone have the bleeding decency to not smile tonight?! Too many people with too **bleeding** many perfect teeth!'_

"Side-strike! I can't believe you're still in the band!" Charlie held out a hand, which the male soundly ignored. Dropping his hand to his side Charlie tried again. Quieter this time, aware of the students around them, he prodded. "Come on, it's been over a week since I was hired here and I haven't even seen you."

"I attend meals," the male corrected. "I am not, 'Still in the band,' as you put it. I was never a member. And it's not as though we are or were friends."

"Right," Charlie nodded in good-natured defeat, while radiating hurt so loudly that the male was almost remorseful. "You've been to a few meals and are just filling in for the drummer, off and on, for twenty years now. Side-strike, you really haven't changed."

_'Maybe he can deliver my latest report to the Headmaster. It can't really wait and I haven't got cover to talk to him tonight. There shouldn't be anyone by the lake...' _"You should be more careful," the male softly hissed back. Once on the lawn, and away from the Ball, he continued. "If Malfoy had been standing there he would know everything that you do. Maybe getting them to transfer you back to base was a mistake. I haven't exactly advertised that I know how to play a Muggle instrument, or that I have more than one name. There must have been some reason you put Gaf after me." 

Like the good little Weasley he was, Charlie took up the unspoken request/demand for an explanation. "I wanted to ask how in Merlin's self cleaning shorts you managed to cure Remus."

 Coolly he answered, "Weasley, you don't have the capability to understand what I did."

"I did bloody well on my potions NEWTs, **if** you remember." Charlie hotly shot back.

The pseudo-Snape continued to lead Weasley toward the lake. (Without the Care of Magical Creatures instructor noticing that he was in fact being lead). The male didn't even deign to raise a brow when he replied. "If you **remember**, the only reason you passed was because I tutored you." After a few paces more he continued, "I owed you a debt. That is the only reason I tutored you, and I have not tutored anyone since because it was such a disaster. I didn't cure the Were. I just looked at the situation in a way that it had not been looked at before, and saw something that no one else had. He didn't need curing he needed balance. I've already tested it on a few other Were Canids and one WereOwl." He couldn't hold in the shrug as he admitted, "It'll never get published, but it works."

They both glanced up as a large dog, long legged and deep chested, broke from the Forbidden Forrest and dashed toward them. With unnatural speed it approached, stopping an instant from flattening Weasley in its haste to get to the male. As the blue-eyed Potions Master slipped a scroll from the dog's jaws, Charlie finally had a chance to notice the red ears and eyes on the otherwise white dog.

"A Yelper?!" Charlie gasped in amazement. The animal's thin silver collar flashed in the engorged moon catching his eye. "A collar? But, who owns a Yelper?" A sudden paling of his face as he swallowed caused the male to mentally roll his eyes. "Herne?! If The Hunter is sending you notes-"

_'The guy is starting to babble.'_ "Weasley," he interrupted some sort of offer of privacy. "Send Mister Malfoy to the lake. I will wait for him there."

~

As Draco approached, the male smirked. _'Of course he's dressed as a wealthy Muggle businessman. What else would a Malfoy dress as?' _ 

Draco tried to return his smirk, but came off sly rather than morbidly amused. "Sir? There was something you wished to speak with me about…"

Silently the male led him around the lake to a spot where the trees would trap any noise, preventing it from echoing across the still water. 

"Mister Malfoy." He turned to face his most promising recruit. "There was an attack against some Muggles earlier this evening." Draco's fast realization of where the conversation was going showed plainly in his deepening Slytherin cool. "Your father was killed. His death has been, for the moment, ruled a tragic accident. According to the current **official** report he was caught in the crossfire between a team of Aurors who had been given an anonymous tip, and a group of Death Eater copy-cats."

Anger. Fear. Loss. The male closed his eyes and opened himself to absorb as much of the young Slytherin's emotional maelstrom as possible, without actually touching him.

It was the coldness that pushed him forward. The male kept trying to convince himself that some protective reaction had occurred, not something based upon his own need to hide from the same feelings in his own past. Truth didn't really matter though as he hugged Draco to his chest. '_He doesn't know how to hurt without loosing himself inside. Damn it Lucius!'_ Carefully he placed a hand on the young Malfoy's pale head, steadying himself for the coming emotional hell. 

Draco's thoughts and feelings ripped through the male's mind as he touched the back of the boy's neck. Rage. _*Why did you die at some one else's hand?! Didn't I earn the right to pay you back for all of those l**essons**?!* _Terror. _*They'll expect me to take his place as a Dark Wizard. Snape can't protect me from mother the way he could from father. She doesn't believe what he says about Snape being more dangerous now than he was during the first rising.'_* Desperate needs, never to be met. *_I tried so hard! I really did. WHY COULDN'T YOU LOVE ME FATHER?!*_

For Draco the pain was suddenly lessened for reasons he did not know or care about. 

**_'You hid from the pain when they hurt you.'_**He knew that Draco did not have enough psi-sensativity to clearly hear him. With enough force though, even someone as guarded against him as Black would be able to sense his meaning._ **'Now you're trying to run and hide but the pain is chasing you further than you should go.'**_ The cold was continuing to creep in, stealing Draco's heart and mind. The male felt real panic for the second time that night. He knew that the further Draco ran from the pain the harder it would be to find his way back. It was how **he** had locked the male away for so many years, and how **he** and the Dark Lord planned to banish him forever.**_ 'Draco! You are not to surrender to him again!'_**

Silver eyes, tear filled and red rimmed, looked up at him. The male stepped back, breaking contact as he did so.

"I hurt." Ashamed, Draco looked away even though he was somehow sure the other already knew. "I just don't know why."

"Don't bother it too much," the male advised. Turning, he began the long trek back to the brightly lit hall where the Halloween Ball was still going on. "Pain, all pain explains its self eventually." The physical awareness he had of his surroundings told him that Draco was not following. "What is it Mister Malfoy?" He spoke just loud enough to sound annoyed.

"Can I ask you a question, sir, about your family."

Continuing back to the Ball he answered with the same tone he addressed Gryffindors with. "I know that for nearly as long as I have been in Slytherin, even before I was made Head of House rumors have been circulated. Which one in particular are you interested in?" 

"My fath- Lucius told me stories about you, things you did. Like getting away with force-splnching Forrest Fogerson. He said you got away with things that should have put you in prison, because no one could prove you had done any of it."

"I am late and the rest of the band will either wait and eat or start without me. Either way it is a disaster. Gaff will find a way to get some girl, or two, to snog with him and Bish couldn't keep rhythm if he were threatened with Cruciatus. What is it?"

Draco caught up with him and glanced over for a brief moment. "Is it true, that you killed your father?"

The side door he had used to sneak out of the Hall with Charlie Weasley opened as he approached. He stepped through and swiftly made his way down the side passage toward the band's break room. Counting the people who would need to forget that he was in the band. The male knew that Draco was waiting in the doorway to the Hall, hoping for an answer. When he did answer his voice was so soft it should not have been audible over the noise of the Ball but the strange resonance that Black had noticed when trying to talk to him over the music in his lab, carried his words to waiting ears. "Not. Yet."

~

No one noticed the Headmaster leave the Ball for a few minutes private conference with the drummer. Neville's distracted thoughtfulness went unobserved. Collin and Dillon Creevey however were missed. No unwelcome "candid" photos were being taken and no flash spots had to be blinked away. It didn't take long for the whole school to have it confirmed that the brothers were not returning that year. Or any other. Their family had moved to France when Mister Creevey received a sudden transfer to one of the company's branch offices.


	43. Time Out

Rather sadly and with more than a touch of frustaition tinted embarasment, I have resently realized that I have been using a very complicated system of 'cues' for the various shifts in time and place as well as perspective that go on in any good fic. Things have gotten too complicated for me to keep to what ever it was that I had been using before I fell. I do hope you do not get lost and that if you feel the all too familiar fog of mixed perception and opacity of point begin to overwhelm you….after checking the time to make sure that you did not just take a sip of that mysterious red liquid you keep in you inner coat (or robe) pocket, please tell me. I really don't know what I'm doing. Well I know what happens next, but not how I'm supposed to say it.

This disclaimer has to go for the previous two chapters as well, I own nothing that some one else has already gotten the patents and or copy rights to.

**Gryffindor-160 Points- **Frogfoot is awarded 10 points for shameless flattery (I love that!); Ezioku receives 10 points and a refresher course on the various orienteering charms you learned in second and third year may be called for

**Slytherin-240 Points- **Milee receives 10 points as a reward for endurance 

**MILEE! I AM ON YOUR SPAM BLOCKER LIST. IF THIS WAS NOT A MISTAKE PLEASE TELL ME! IF IT WAS A MISTAKE PLEASE TELL ME!! **You do want chapter 44, right?

**Ravenclaw**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House. 

**Huffelpuff**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

 Chapter 43:

"Sleep well," Severa asked, with a nearly teasing smile, while downing a full dose of a headache remedy.

"Why?" Snape scowled at the buttons of his shirt cuff. They were refusing to button properly.

Weary already, she led the way back down the dungeon stairs to their shared classroom. '_Mondays are bad but Fridays are always worse.'_

*_Potter is only one small adolescent boy. He is not worth this much upset.*___

_'Be silent,'_ she growled at her inner, alternate, voice. _'As easily as Snape locked his away, I could cage you. Your freedom is my choice. Remember that.'_ The inner presence faded some. **It** had withdrawn to a darker corner where **it** would, no doubt, sulk and wait for another chance to **help** as **it** saw fit. The strange thing about the whole situation was, ever since she had started having these horrible sleeping patterns and nightmares, that inner voice had been getting louder. '_Gaining strength. That's what Snape calls it.'_

She shoved the heavy door open and they stepped into the cold poorly lit classroom with perfectly synchronized steps. After nearly a week of laying low and letting his alternate take care of his responsibilities it was more than fair that Snape shoulder one day's schedule by himself. Moody was there only to double-check her shopping list, before heading out to Diagon Alley.

"What did Potter and Weasley find during detention last week?" she asked from a shelf in the back of the room.

Snape glanced up from the scrolls he was sorting. Pathetic attempts by seventh-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to explain the relationship between the active and inactive ingredients in Barminster's Absolute Solvent. "Apparently we're short on Echidna spines and fresh Blind-worm tongue. I think more Parrot Mushroom would be a good idea as well, a variety pack if you can find it.

Adding these to the mental list that the Other already kept for her, Severa Moody paused only to pick up her cloak before leaving the dungeons. Well before the first period students started arriving.

~

Having spent little time in heavily populated places, Severa was being bombarded by her physical awareness of the people around her. Diagon Alley was crowded today. 

Durmstrang had a large student body, far larger than Hogwarts. But then she was also nearly three times as large and twice as old as her English counterpart. The massively confusing halls of Durmstrang were patrolled by students traveling in gangs, safety in numbers, and the less friendly things that came out, mostly, at night. Sighing, silently, Hogwarts' new Potions Master's Assistant began scanning signposts for the one she was after. Fruge Alley with its cheep discount wares, O' Casion Alley packed with tiny specialty shops-

There was a man behind her. He was distracted and had a wife three sons and worked in retail broom sales. Though just what all that subliminal information was supposed to be good for, she hadn't a clue.

The man didn't have time to do more than look up before he stepped into the space that Severa had vacated an instant before. Sidestepping to her left she ignored both his gasp of surprise and his nervous quickening of pace as she entered Knock Turn Alley.

_'Probably feels lucky he didn't run into some one entering Knock Turn... Really Knock Turn's not that different from Ketch. Well the Ketch exchange at any rate.'_ She mused with faint poignancy. _'The people here are so…'___

_*Innocent?*___

And just like that **it** was back.

With a natural cool more often seen in the immortal, or undead, she ignored the Hag selling human fingernails of various sizes, made note of a nameless shop that displayed in its front window a collection of used sacrificial knives; most were crusted with a dark brown substance some were still shimmeringly wet, and without noticeable caution entered Froeman's Import and Consignment. 

A charm blacked its front window to all but Froeman's Most Valued Customers- and the few who were members of races that illusory charms don't work on. Sidhe and the like.

No one glanced up as she entered. Most of them kept track of her for a few minutes, until they were assured of her indifference to them. In turn Severa Moody ignored everyone else present. The Other was aware enough.

Froeman appeared just at the point where Severa was giving up hope of finding dried King's Foil. 

Slightly stooped and of an advanced age impossible to guess Froeman could not have appeared friendly to save his sould. Stringy dark grey hair and bloodshot brown eyes spoke of his selling Potions supplies, only. Using the things on his shelves was something his customers did. 

"Ah," he breathed. Turning the sound into something conspiratorial. "The new Potions Master come down from our own dear Hogwarts. Your first time in Diagon, yes my sweet?"

Slanting him a look through her bangs, Moody demurred with ice, "Potions Master's Assistant." Obviously every one had been waiting to see the professor who left **Durmstrang** to come to Hogwarts, but she didn't have time to give them a proper show. And The Other was making uneasy ripples in their link. "King's Foil?"

With a smile that said he knew a return customer when he saw one, Froeman led her down the next aisle. "Your accent, Miss Moody- it seems rather…local, for some one from such a-"

"Yes **that** Alastor Moody," she said, anticipating his end point. Picking up, inspecting and rejecting jars of dried yellow flowers she answered the rest of his questions in one sweep. "No I do not resent it. We were colleagues, nothing more. I used to have access to some, and I could get my hands on more, if the percentage were favorable to me… Now, do you have any with the roots intact?" she asked holding up one of the jars. 

Several hours and many more dark and most likely not entirely legal establishments later, her shopping was finally done. _'Back to Hogwarts for lunch.' _she raked the hair from her eyes and stared blankly ahead for a moment, waiting. 

_*Raw Bundimun extract…*_ her Other prodded gently.

With a slight nod Moody made her way toward a decrepit, moldering sort of shop, exactly like all of the other shops on Knock Turn. Except for the fact that the place had weathered grey shingle siding that instead of a sign, was growing lichens mosses and vines. With a wrinkle of her nose she crossed the threshold into the store. Deep inside a sigh echoed out toward her consciousness. **It** had done something that she had failed to catch. _'No mind, it's not as though **it** can act against me.'_ Moody shrugged off her momentary wariness and paid for her jar of the caustic slime.

~

"Did you find everything?" He asked, his voice a gravely purr for her ears only.

She nodded slightly. "It seems a bit warm for this time of year, but I assume I'll get used to the difference." On her other side Albus' eyes rested on her for a moment, she did not turn from her food, or her companion of choice, to acknowledge him.

Lunch appeared shortly and the faculty began their conversations. The pale thin dark haired man on her left was obviously in worse health than he had been when she first came, two months ago. They both were, but she tried not to dwell on things that would rouse her **dominant **from **her** sleep.

"Malfoy will be returning to classes this term after all," his softly spoken comment drawing her from her thoughts. "For some reason his mother has decided to move back to Estonia, by herself." Thoughtfully he took a tiny piece of battered fish on the tip of his fork and slid it between his barely parted lips. His vomiting had abated somewhat since he had started trying to eat, so she had begun to nibble at occasional meals as well. 

The fact that he knew perfectly well, and in advance, what was happening in the Malfoy house was pouring off him in thick waves of something she could not identify, but could interpret very well nonetheless. Grigory Rasputin, her former Headmaster, had taught her well in the use of the Sidhe form of -mind reading- as Muggles and Wizards had long dubbed it.

But at least it wasn't the disjointed self-warring that she normally sensed from him- er, them. Taking a long sip of her wine, he had arranged for that too. She did her best to watch everything, students and faculty, that he wasn't. Without ever realizing that she was doing so.

~

"May I speak with you," Starch smiled softly, from within a deeply shadowed empty room just down from the Great Hall. His eyes flickered from one man to the other. "The both of you, if you have time."

Raising his brows and pulling a smirk, Starch acknowledged that Alastor and Albus covered their shock nicely, all things considered. Seeing a Vampire in the middle of a bright sunny day was not the sort of thing you could really prepare yourself for though.

The curtains had been drawn and the windows had been Opacioed, to further prevent the sun from entering. Wall sconces and a few candelabras were the only light, once Starch shut the door.

"You're probably, no, definitely wondering why I'm here," Starch began speaking before the Wizards had a chance to get their bearings. "The simple answer is, I haven't really left." He started to wander around the room with great energy, but without a definite path. "I **have** had to go back to my practice every few days, you can't just cancel appointments. Not with my sort of clientele." He flashed a disturbingly toothy smile making his meaning plain. "But I have been here more than away. I trust that you haven't been missing any students of late…?" 

"We know you're not a threat to the students," Albus grit his teeth in annoyance. 

"You're just not especially welcome here." Alastor edged in.

He paused in his pacing and gave the Headmaster a long look. "Honesty is the best policy," Starch nodded in appreciation, "especially when the person you are speaking with can tell when you lie. He taught me that one too." Turning sharply enough to cause his dark grey lab coat to flare he resumed his pacing.

"You had a point." Alastor barked.

Running a pallid hand through his spiked hair Starch nodded jerkily. "Yes! Yes! I am up here at this unholy hour to warn you." Moody grunted at his use of the word unholy, he ignored it. "I have no idea what is going on, but he- the male," he clarified with an irritated flick of one wrist, "is acting strangely. Agitated. Twitchy. You haven't noticed or you would already be alerted. Something **big**. Snape is planning something **big** and what ever it is, it will happen soon…"

"Well, thank you ever so much." Alastor growled. "I'm going to be late for my security conference with Filch now." 

"**Hold Moody.**" The retreating Wizard froze, one hand on the doorknob. _ 'He knows I could have **made** him stop if I wanted to.'_ He pushed a hand through his hair again and sighed silently,_ 'I just hope he's reasonable enough to consider that, before he reacts. This is going to be hard enough as it is, with out having to fight him too.'_  

The charge in the air did not dissipate when Moody slowly turned away from the door. Keeping his voice as calm as he ever could, Starch tried not to break the tension either. "I know it will happen, it will happen soon and it will be a massive strike. I know no more than that. But it is still more than you know. Even now you do not know this as I do. I am hoping to convince you of the truth. If you will listen." __

Albus tried to reenter the conversation. He was thoroughly ignored. 

"I'm already late. Make your case." Alastor gruffly allowed.

_'He failed to mention that I risked a lot by coming here, at this time of day, to warn them.'_ Starch jerked his shoulders in something between a shrug and a violent shudder then resumed his wandering around the room. 

In the close space the Humans' scent was strong, and he felt a twinge of hunger. "I told you how the male saved me, pulled me into a crypt and sheltered me from the sun. How he cut himself and used a discarded Muggle cup to catch his blood so I wouldn't have to bite him."

Alastor rolled his eyes. "You said all this when you first came here. Uninvited then too."

"Well I failed to mention that before he let me drink, he gave me a warning." Staring Moody down was about as effective as staring down the female. _'I guess that's where she got that sneer she uses to break the standoff and still win.'_ "He warned me that he was a carrier." 

Albus started at that, but regained control smoothly. 

"I think you missed that," Starch stepped too close to the Headmaster. "It's a carry over from the time Before. Some how he still knows that his blood infects anyone who encounters it. His blood would live on for a time in a Human, but eventually it would pass from their system, but in me it is still alive and a part of him. You know this is true. Now, you know why I am certain that he is being bothered by something Snape is planning and when I say he is planning something in return, now you believe me."

"How long do we have?" Albus' voice was raw with fear.

_'But fear of what? Or for what….he goes to Azkaban if they are caught, but then there is more at stake than his own life.'_ "Less time than you had when I called you in here." 

Positioning himself along the same wall as the door; the only place where light coming through the door could not possibly reach. He raised one hand and focused on the door's lock, clear grey eyes going momentarily yellow as he unlocked it. 

The retired Auror stared at the open door for a moment, weighing his options, then passed through.

Starch snagged the edge of Albus' sleeve centimeters from where the sun fell on it through a window in the opposite room. "Make sure he listens," Starch tried a last plea. "You withdraw but he strikes back, balance each other or you will both loose."

"You can't tell me any more than that?" 

_It's up to the mortals now.' _He released his hold on the other man's robe and took another step back, away from the sunlight. _'How do I explain feelings I have not questioned for twenty years?'_

Albus left him. Alone in the empty room Starch avoided the splash of light on the floor, and the few reflections of sun that were tossed about by objects in the room. Searching a few pockets he eventually turned up a handful of Floo-powder. "The Raven," he murmured, just loud enough to get there.

~

Janette's red neon sign was dim. The curtains were drawn in the windows. The doors were locked. No one was there. Naturally. It was overcast, but still bright; most of her regular customers would not be showing up until after the sunset.

Starch was redirected to a quiet hangout where patrons could wait for the moon in safety. The brick and cement décor suggested a forgotten subway platform from a time when the trains still ran on steam. The movie posters featuring Basil Rathbone and a young Hillary Brooke were originals. Largely populated by Fledglings, the alcove style room went silent when he stepped in. 

Looking over the room of shocked, mostly young, men and women Starch tried to locate some one from the right clan. _'Of old the Clans have set themselves apart. So they could hold grudges and keep allies or war with each other. Such a waist of time and potential.'_ His eyes passed over a small group of Vampiresses in deeply red velvet sheathe dresses and their male escorts; Humans who had pledged themselves to service in the hopes of earning immortality. There were jaded Mods and artistic Teddy's, Manic Panic Punks, romantic Medievals even a few loud Flappers (visiting from America,)_ 'Not that any Vampire can claim to belong to any mortal nation…'_ All had the classic palely anemic look of their kind. Finally, their attention wandered, and he found one of LaCroix's little ones. _'Most Vampires just look as though they are better than everyone else…LaCroix's just are.'_ He laughed to himself and moved toward the small table in the back.

The large muscular Vampire had his long blonde hair pulled back and tied with a strip of plastic lacing. He didn't look up at Starch until he had gotten the Leather clad woman on his lap to agree to meet him at the Raven when he was done with his business. When she was gone he indicated the seat at the table opposite his own. Showing still more disrespect to the Ancient before him, he didn't wait for Starch to speak first. "Well, I must be special." He grinned cockily. "The Good Doctor comes all the way out here to see me. What can I do for you then? Or is this a house call?"

"Lo-Jack," Starch paused to pull out his Victorian sunglasses. Smokey, green, eight sided lenses slid over his eyes. "Lo-Jack, Lo-Jack, Lo-Jack for a Fledgling you are remarkably well developed in the area of senseless arrogance. I do not need LaCroix's permission to exact Credit for your little show here." He watched as the other shifted in his seat and sat up a bit straighter. "Now as to why I'm here. I have been asked to represent a party who wishes to acquire something that I feel may fall under your, particular, area of expertise."

"If it's transportation, name it and I can find it and deliver. For the right price. Anything else and I can put you n touch with the right guy."

Tipping his head in a mock bow, Starch thinly smiled. "This is of a sort that has, perhaps, not been in demand for some time. You have your contacts though." The young Vampire was caught. _'Fool! He doesn't even realize that he's going to be willing to loose on this just to prove he can do it, now.'_ Starch chuckled to himself and continued. "A horse."

Lo-Jack leaned forward and grabbed a pen and flip style notebook from one of his pockets. "A horse? No I haven't had much call for horses lately. Not since the car took hold at least. You have specifications right? Training, size, breed, color, you gonnna want the tack too?"

Starch set out what he knew was needed, keeping in mind that the price had yet to be set. "The color should, preferably be dark, an agile but strong breed. Something part Friesian, a Warlander or the like would do I suppose." Lo-Jack's eyebrows went up at that, but he wrote it down anyway. "I will need it as soon as possible, the party I represent is willing to pay for speed in delivery. Oh," he added with an offhanded air. "It must be Destrier trained, with full Adamantite armor."

Lo-Jack choked. His head shot up and he scrutinized the Ancient's face, hoping for a trace of humor that would indicate that the last had been a joke. "You want a pretrained preoutfitted war horse capable of going into combat against Wizards? Even if I could get it for you…" he faltered at the prospect of what he could charge for such an order. "Can your, who ever the hell it is, afford something like this?!" He frantically looked around the room for wherever the Ancient's sanity had fled. "Even LaCroix would be hard pressed to pay a reasonable rate for it. And I do **not** charge reasonably," he hissed back.

"What would you start the negotiating at?" Starch calmly waved over one of the Raven's employees and ordered himself a light A positive. 

Lo-Jack reread the list he had made, adding a few notes to certain items. "I could do it for rights to my own Clan."

His drink was delivered and Starch gave a dismissive shake of his head to the Human carrying the tray. "That would have to be arranged through LaCroix." He took a sip and thought. "If he, or she,  were able to arrange this with LaCroix for you, you would still not be an Ancient. You would not have a recognized Clan, with Clan's rights, until you had earned the rank of Ancient. If you ever do earn it. Not all do."

"Get me my rights and I'll worry about my personal development."

_'Talk LaCroix into releasing the Fledgling? How in smeg am I supposed to do that?!' _"Two horses, plus armor and the training."

"If your represented party has the power to get me my freedom from LaCroix, it's a deal." Lo-Jack quirked one thin brow in challenge and waited.

@---'---,---------------

After Starch had made his final plea and released his sleeve Albus had intended to return to his office and finish replying to some rather annoying messages from the various officials who insisted on occupying their time with writing him inane scrolls. 

He had stared out the window for nearly half an hour before he drew his wand and returned the paper work to the appropriate files to be attended to later. A soft, musical, coo sounded from beside the office door.

"Yes, Fawkes," he murmured, rising to pet the concerned Phoenix. Iridescent gold red and bronze feathers settled back into place, with a little attention. "You know," he continued to stroke the great bird as he spoke, half to himself, half to Fawkes. "You know, I just can't focus right now. Maybe I'll take a bit of a break, hm?"

with a slight twinkle returning to his eyes, the Headmaster accioed his cloak from the sitting room and made his way down to the kitchens. If the company of a hundred, overly cheerful, House Elves did not lighten his mood, perhaps a snack would…

~

Several sweet cakes and a few dancing gingerbread men later Albus was able to finish the truly important work of the day, before dinner.

_'He has been doing so much better since he started eating regularly,'_ The Headmaster continued the conversation he had been having with himself all day. _'He has not been throwing up as often…'_ he gave a mental sigh of resignation. _'I know he was becoming sick more often around the times he is supposed to take the Plasti-juice. But now he's doing better…or he's in remission.'_

"Stupid Gryffindor!"

The shout brought him out of his own thoughts in an instant. Immediately he recognized the voice of his Potions Master. As he expected Severa was standing to the side, but adding her glare to the situation. 

In the busy hall it seemed one of the students had bumped into Severus as he was carrying something hot in a large cauldron. It had spilt on him and was running in a winding puddle toward the main doors.

Albus could see that the student was uninjured and so turned his attention to Snape. "Are you injured Severus?" 

"Fifty points from Gryffindor!" The irate man was seething.

"**Severus**." He wasn;t entirely sure what he had intended to do, but grabbing the Head of Slytherin by the shoulder turned out to be a bad idea.

The speed with which Snape turned was amazing. Suddenly Albus went from trying to get the attention of the angry man, to having his arm held close to the wrist, his hand bent forward, and with what looked like a small amount of pressure exerted a great deal of pain was shooting through his shoulder. None of that registered for a moment though. The eyes that glared at him were wild and so stained the their blue was almost lost in the PMR like shadows. _'He could kill me right now.'_ Suddenly, like never before, he realized that he and Alastor had taken a great risk in saving the two Garoms.

Out of the tableau he just caught the slight movement, Severa reaching for something tucked in her robe. _'But it's the wrong side for her wand.'_

Severus released him and backed a step away. "I- Headmaster-" mouth open slightly he just shook his head.


	44. Phoenix Fire

**Gryffindor-180 Points- **Frogfoot receives 10 points for questioning Dumbledore's "control issues"; Ezioku receives 10 for showing good taste in Vampires and Vampire Exotics

**Slytherin-250 Points- **Milee receives 10 points for clearing up the whole "mailer demon" issue I had when I tried to e- her. 

**Ravenclaw-10 Points- ** DnD4ever receives the first ten points, ever, for Ravenclaw. Laconic reviews seem to be a specialty for you…

**Huffelpuff**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

I also need to thank Frogfoot for noticing and mentioning the spelling errors here. I think I cleaned it up.

Chapter 44:

"Severus," The headmaster drew a slow breath. 

The students were standing paralyzed in the halls on their way to dinner and were gaping openly. The male blinked. _'What the hell happened?!  **Him** loosing **his** cool and taking Points from the nearest representative of a House other than Slytherin is less than unusual. The fact that he attacked the Headmaster is more than scary.'_

The male brought his eyes up to meet the Headmaster's. "I'm in control, now," he mouthed silently. 

With a slow relaxing of his shoulders Albus released his breathe. "You have been working too hard. I think you should take the evening off."

Trying to buy time, to figure out what had happened that warranted being censured in front of a hall full of students, he tried to change the subject a little. "But, tomorrow is Sat-"

"You are relieved of your duties for the night."

_'The students need to be reassured that he is now back in control. They need to see their hated Potions instructor cow to their benevolent protector. Just another reason to hate me- us, whatever, I guess.'_

The male Garom dropped his gaze to the sodden hem of his robes. Shooting a questioning glance to the female, she helpfully directed her attention to the stream of potion on the floor. _'Oh.'_ He dropped his shoulders and, as meekly as he knew how, headed toward the Dungeon stairs. _'**He **worked hard on that. No wonder **he** lost control.'_

From halfway down the stairs he could just make out the female quickly informing Albus that she would be back for her evening hall monitoring shift. Her feet made no sound on the stones, but he could tell that she was only a few steps behind him by the time he reached the bottom.

"What were you planning to do then?" He snarled at her. 

"I was going to protect **her** brother," the female replied tonelessly.

Turning on her with a growl the male's eyes blazed with contempt. "I will not be watched over because **she** feels protective of **her** brother!"

She countered, raising her voice slightly. "I don't see that you are the one with the choice." 

@---'---,-----------(remember this? It means that the following action happens at the same time as what just happened)

"Harry!" Ron thumped his friend on the back, interrupting another worship-the-boy-who-lived session that some of the younger students still insisted on having. "C'mon mate, I've got som' thin' that'll wake you up early tomorrow." Effectively and efficiently Ron stole Harry away. 

They had perfected this maneuver over summer break; the Dursleys went on holiday touring Europe, they saw no reason to pay for a fourth ticket. Until Dudly's best chum decided to come. Then they gleefully found that there wasn't money for a fifth ticket.

Ducking up the boy's dormitory stairs they hid behind one of the floor length gold trimmed drapes. Once the coast was clear, Ron checked, they came out and waited for Hermione to reappear. 

"Ok Ron," a voice called through the concealing charm on their secret alcove under the boys' stair. 

Harry jumped in his skin, Ron's hand went for his wand. Hermione was plainly visible to them, because of the limitation on the charm; only those who knew "the closet" was there could see through and pass through. Aidan peaked around Hermione with a grin.

"You guys looked so funny! I've never seen anyone jump so bad, Harry. Not even my sister when I put-"

"Why are we here Ron?" Hermione interrupted a bit rudely. "We're going to be late for dinner."

"Geesh," Aidan slumped back into the small, hidden room. The others followed.

"Ron gave Aidan a sympathetic look. "It's not you Aidan," he whispered. "Tonight we're having roast with some kind of pineapple sauce, her mum makes it that way, she's just homesick."

Aidan's eyes went wide as he tried to process Hermione Grange, the self-possessed and confident, being homesick.

"I'm hungry too Ron, and this break is really only long enough for us to get a Divination essay made u- done, we haven't got much time. Just spit it out." Harry glanced at Hermione to see if she had caught his near slip.

"Ok," Ron gave a rather good martyr look, "I'll sacrifice the drama. Happy? Fred and George happened upon some interesting information. See, Zonko's is getting a shipment in tonight and-"

"They always get shipments in on Friday's Ron," Hermione cut in. "How could they fill the Saturday morning demand otherwise?"

Waving her down with a grin, that nearly split his face, Ron continued his announcement. "Tonight they are receiving a shipment of new, just released, never before pulled in England, practical jokes!"

Hermione groaned, Aidan whooped and Harry slouched against the wall.

"Ron this is not the sort of emergency that you are supposed to use the signal charm for," Hermione walked out into the common room and grabbed her bag and books that had been left on a table by the window.

"What," Ron huffed back. "We're supposed to have this private message thingy and not use it, unless someone's dying?!"

Moving up the stairs to the girls' dormitories she tossed her hair and looked down on all three boys. "If you get up early, I'm sure there will be plenty of shiny new trouble to get into."

In the middle of blustering a comeback at Hermione's back, Ron was interrupted again. This time by Harry.

"No Ron, I think she's right," Harry's green eyes had something brewing in their depths.

Hermione heaved her books onto her bed and came back out quickly. "Thank you Harry," she smiled. "At least someone is being reasonable."

"I think we need to go tonight."

"See Ron- WHAT?!" she shrieked and tripped on a step, catching herself on the railing.

"Wha?" Ron echoed her in a much quieter and less horrified tone. "Harry I don-"

"Cool!" Aidan jumped punching the air with his fist. "This will be so neat!"

Harry and Aidan insisted on going that night, for a change Hermione and Ron agreed it was a bad idea, and they all missed the event that happened in the hall on the way to Dinner.

"I'm going Ron," Harry snapped. "You can stay if you want to."

Ron tried to be reasonable, "Harry, I don't think going out in the middle of the night into Hogsmead is a good idea. Albus said that we should tone back our escapades. Those were his words."

Harry went back to the Closet for his Invisibility Cloak. "I'm not letting some freak make me hide under the stairs all my life." He wasn't defying the Headmaster, sneaking off to get some prank supplies. The rage that burnt in his eyes and voice wasn't even only for his uncle and aunt. Not really He was defying the Dark Lord.

"I don't think it's safe," Ron insisted with a sinking heart. "But I'll go with you if you still want me to." He couldn't let his best friend go without him. What if Harry needed him?

Licking her lips Hermione quietly agreed also. "We just need to be real careful, ok? I don't need another note sent home to my parents. They freaked at the idea that I was in the same field as a Dragon last year." She tactfully did not mention the fact that her parents had almost had her transferred because of the other events that had transpired at the tournament. The Dragon was the least of their concerns.

~

Tightening the last strap on his harness, the male thought over his options again. _'Basically, I can either try to hide the fact that I'm hiding down here, and hope none of the House Elves tell on me, or I can obey his unspoken but obvious intentions and go…somewhere else?'_

Throwing his silk cloak over his shoulders as he stepped into their shared sitting room. He waited for only a brief moment before the female came out, also in her uniform. 

"So," she prompted while straightening her matte black collar. "Have we got a destination in mind?"

" I think Black should come too." He paused at the door. What he had just said made sense, _'But why? Why should I bring him? He didn't exactly react well when I tried to Glam him back from the Raven and I still can't afford to Port-booth him both ways. Not without breaking my word to Starch.'_ Deep in his core, at the mere thought of Sirius Black, a black wave had welled up. More than the simple bitter disdain that he knowingly felt for the man who had been instrumental in tormenting him throughout his school years. Snape didn't want Black around. _'It's more than that even. **He** doesn't want Black around, tonight…'_

The female rustled her cloak a little. Just enough to end his indecision.

"Black has been pushed aside since Lupin and Tala have been spending every heartbeat in each others' company. I want to see if he's interested in a night out too." He promptly strode from the room and down the hall, cloak flaring out to nearly meet the stone walls. The female was close at his heels. 

"You want to see if he's going to reject you." She needled. He ignored her.

~

Sirius's eyes crossed. Again. Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, he pushed back from the table and closed the book he had been studying.

Ever since Tala had taken priority over him Sirius hadn't had quite as much to do. Moony was moaning on about the She-Were and wasn't as interested in hanging out playing poker or chess. That was why he had resumed his research into the ancient Race known as Garoms, and was spending his Friday evening hunched over a Medieval tome, giving himself a migraine. 

"How could people write so decoratively and expect it to be readable?" He grumbled to the room at large. There was a knock at the door and he smiled. "Harry," he muttered softly. "Just use the chime charm." His godson was having trouble with the drastic transition between living with his aunt and uncle, and life in the Wizarding world.

He opened the door with a smile. "Her- You?!" Black choked on his heart. He started and nearly slammed the door closed in surprise, catching himself just before it latched shut again. Recovering from the shock he opened the door again. "I thought you were Harry. I was sort of expecting him, I guess."

"Thankfully we look nothing alike." The male scoffed with contempt.

After a tense moment Black realized he was staring. With his teeth clenched. "Uh, you want to come in?" He lamely offered. Something niggled at the back of his mind though…_'He's said something about my quarters, or was it all of the rooms down this hall?'_ The male had gone still at his offer._ 'What did he say? Something about being locked in a room down here, I think…I'll have to see if Remus remembers anything about it.'_

The male, though paler than usual, looked him straight in the eyes. He suddenly realized that the male's eyes were very hard to see. The shadows from the PMR-like taint were more than dusky clouds. The once flashing  blue eyes were now nearly as black as…well as black as Snape's.

"Your eyes are almost black." _'Possibly the dumbest thing I could have said.'_ He berated himself.

"You're reading up on the Middle ages." 

Something about the male's tendency to make seemingly irrelevant statements got to him more than it normally did. "Since you're not Harry…" He put as much indifference as he could into his voice, "What are you doing here?"

With an arched eyebrow the male crossed his arms, but it was the female who answered.  "We were wondering if you'd be interested in going out for a few drinks."

The way the male shot a glance over his shoulder at the female, and the way she looked more innocent than a baby, obviously something was up. 

Sirius stared at the male. 

"I can't Glam you without physical contact. I can't reach you from here, and I am not entering any of the guards' quarters. So technically I can't do a thing to you…until you leave you rooms. Now. Please," the please had obviously cost him, "I have to get out of here. One way or another."

The power had shifted somehow. The male was almost pleading with him. "Why do you 'need' to get out of here?"

"Black, I will not discus this with you. Ever. If I can't leave by walking out of here, I'll fall out. **He** will be in charge then. And after the way **he** attacked the Headmaster tonight…I don't trust **him** with you."

Black went white. He could literally feel the blood flooding down his neck away from his face. _'That Exotic, the Vampire, he said it was just an act. And the male already saved my life more than once.'_ But twelve years of experience in Azkaban were busy flashing through his mind. 

He could almost hear his cell door scraping open. Staring into the male's inhuman eyes he saw only the eyes of the guards who had- _'NO!_' Backing further into his quarters, but leaving the door open, Sirius closed the scattered books on his reading table. "I haven't got much of a choice," he called back toward the hall. "You can just force me to come can't you? The way you brought me back from the Raven?"

"I told you, I can't Glam you unless I'm touch-"

"Sidhe use Glamour Magic." Sirius shot back. He was getting his things put away, so he was planning to go with them, _'But why?'_ Trying desperately to think of some reasonable explanation he latched onto Albus' request that he and Remus keep a close watch on the male. _'Wait! Didn't he say that Snape attacked the Headmaster?!'_

"Maybe you should go?" The female's comment was directed at the male. He was becoming very agitated and had started to pace back and forth past the open doorway.

"Can you give me your word that it was Snape who attacked Albus? And not you." _'I'm going to accept his word on this, aren't I?I can't think of anything he's done that hasn't felt designed to bait me into a fight. But I will come with him…because I trust him.'_ The revelation, rather than ending his confusion, brought up another question. _'What exactly do I trust him to do?'_

"You bear my Mark. I chose you for a reason. Water, and people, seek out their own same level. I would not discus this topic with you, not even if you forced me to drink Viritas serum. I'm going now. Follow if you want to."

Stubborn, even though he was holding his cloak and obviously read to leave. Sirius persisted. "What is stopping you from coming in? And why are you being so accommodating? Answers to my questions, even if it is with your own twist, aren't exactly what I've come to expect from you."

The male shrugged. "It's just past six o'clock and I'm still sizzling from the serum. I will not come in because it would most likely start the nightmares again."

~

"Stop acting like you're stalking me." Sirius asked for the hundredth time. 

They were walking back to the school grounds after having spent a few hours sipping drinks, dancing with strangers, and basically loosing themselves in the press of a popular little club down Superfici Alley.

"I can't Black." The male whispered. "That bead in your hair is more than a sign that you belong to me. It tells everyone who knows about Marks that I belong to you, in a way. I want so much to heal, you, me, all of us."

Sirius giggled. "It's scary. But you make more sense when I've been drinking."

"Just be quiet enough to keep us from getting caught."

Even to his, slightly fuzzy, mind that sounded wrong. "I'm free ya know. They aren't hunting for me, lurking in dark doorways. No more spying agents in Hogsmead."

The male's shoulders slumped a little. "They weren't looking for you Black. They were looking for me- er, **him**. They're still here. Somewhere."

"Looking around and turning in a wobbly circle Sirius peered into the darkness. "I don't see any-"

A geyser of flame erupted from somewhere near the center of Diagon. It shot into the air spreading out into a curved sickle that resoled into a stylized Phoenix emblem that gave no light but glowed from within.

Sirius drew his wand as he started running in the direction of the emergency beacon. No member of the Order would have used it without cause. 

"Black!" The male was running at an angle away from him. "I'll flank you take point. Find the operative and dig in!"

"Right," Sirius panted to himself. "Gah!" Blindly dashing around a corner he nearly took a flesh melting hex in the face. Flinging himself down behind a decorative flowerbox in front of a shop Sirius gasped for breath and tried to scan the plaza while keeping his head down. _'I can't even tell which charms are coming from our man!'_ He had to drop down again. Some sort of a grayish rose colored spell ripped the siding off the store front behind him. The flying shrapnel caught the back of his head and his outstretched wand hand.

Pointing his wand to the sky where the Order's Phoenix symbol still blazed, without casting any radiant light, he barely breathed a charm designed to slightly alter the image of the great bird. Swiftly the massive flaming wings spread wide. _'Well, that's encouraging,'_ Sirius sarcastically patted himself on the back. _'I got that spell right. Now all I have to do is not get killed and not kill or injure  the wrong guys.'_

Slowly he was able to distinguish some of the spells he had been taught to counter, back before he had gone away. There were also many he did not recognize. There seemed to be five locations that spells were directed at him from and one that aimed for the others.

_'So those are the guys in the masks. Leaving the odd one out as our guy. Right, I've got a hold on this.'_ "Occulo Nox." He thought the words and put only a slight breath behind them. The old training was coming back more as he went. _'"If they can't hear what spell is being used,"'_ he repeated the words drilled into him by Alastor Moody. _'"Then you have one more advantage. And battles can be won or lost because a tiny shift in the balance of Advantage." Just hope I don't mispronounce something. It's been so long since I used a wand in a fight.'_

The blinding hex he had used seemed to have hit someone, The curses coming from the Death Eater he had identified to his front left were not the sort that you could duck.

A many forked bolt of lightning ripped into the market stall where Sirius was fairly sure three or maybe four Death Eaters were hiding. Without thinking he took the brief window of opportunity and bolted across the open plaza to the low stone wall where the Order member was trapped. His heart stopped.

Harry. He couldn't hear his own voice. So in a detached sort of way he decided that he must have not really spoken, but only thought the name of his godson. What ever was going on around him was forgotten for a fraction of a moment. Then Harry moved. His wand out he moved also. Firing off curses and charms as fast as he could. Providing some cover at least, trying to make sure that Harry was not the first one up. 

"We were ambushed," Ron had crawled over to them from behind a broken, something.

It was hard to tell what anything was anymore. They were tearing up the place worse than the Marauders on graduation night. "Once we get out of here I want to know whose idea it was to come out here!" He knew it was irrelevant. More than that he wouldn't care who or what or why once this was over. Not as long as Harry was safe.

"Aidan is with Hermi," Ron hissed while firing a nasty flame like lime green hex. Just another hex Sirius didn't recognize. "She was hit with a blood thinning curse. I think she'll be ok, as long as she stays still and doesn't get banged up by anything. I countered some of it. I think."

Sirius felt shaken at the news that one of the children had been hurt. He hadn't really had the chance to spend much time with the bushy haired girl. And she read too much for anyone's good, but she had been very accepting once he had been proven innocent. One of the few who had been kind really. "Rictus Sempre. Aidan?"

"He's a Second Year-"

"The albino?" Sirius remembered the small pale haired troublemaker from an incident in the main hall with Filch's ratty old cat, and a slime bomb. "Where are they?"

Another blast of lightning arched out from somewhere to his extreme right and Sirius saw Ron shove Harry ahead of him away from the heat of the battle and toward a near demolished enchanted glass shop. Tiny fragments of broken glass sprayed bits of rainbows in all directions.

Sirius backed toward the once quietly well to do shop, using an Unframed Magic shielding charm to cover them all. Once inside he spared a brief glance at the two young people huddled in the far corner. Hermione was laying down. Barely breathing and not moving. She looked like she might have passed out, _'From low blood pressure?'_ He conjectured. _'Without any real Medi-Wizardry training Aidan couldn't possibly do much more than  stand between Hermione and the entrance.'_ Sirius gave the boy an approving smile. _'He's a Gryffindor all right.'_

Aidan hadn't moved from his spot. Not even when the three of them had come in. He was not letting his guard down, and Hermione was safer behind him tan anywhere else right now.

"Now what?" Ron panted. He had been doing most of the real work of protecting the others. Adrenaline was glittering in his eyes as he waited for orders.

"Now," Sirius hesitated. 

An explosion of dazzling light blinded them all. Sirius lurched forward as he felt the world get yanked out from under him. He tried to reach for Harry but didn't have time. 

The building collapsed turning beams and plaster into a deadly hailstorm.


	45. Common Ties

Ok, some of this really** is **mine and some is the property of other people. A few of those other people are J.K. Rowling, H.G. Welles, whom ever owns the movie The Labyrinth, and the estate (assuming there is one) of the historical figure Grigory Rasputin. There may be others I have failed to list. 

Some of the things here are my own i.e. my original characters and various devices that are not directly based on anyone else's work. I claim only my own things and the plot, which is all me. 

I make no money from the things that are not mine and make no money from this fanfic because it is so dependant on things derived from and or borrowed from other peoples' work.

** Gryffindor-210 Points- **Frogfoot receives 10 points for a helpful and detailed private e-mail review; Ezioku receives 10 Points and a pair of tweezers; DnD4ever receives ten points and a bottle of halcyon. I'm sorry but chapters may have to stay at this two week per chap rate.

**Slytherin-270 Points- **Mic, welcome to the group. You are awarded ten Points and I request patients, Black unfortunately is important to both Potter and the male Garom, and so is not expendable…yet; RivanKnight receives ten points for delicious deviousness

**Ravenclaw-10 Points- ** if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**Huffelpuff**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**WARNING**- there is a bit of reminiscing (at the end of the chapter) and past violence, which was directed at a child, is discussed. I try to be clear without being blatant. Feedback is appreciated.

Chapter  45: **(**this chapter starts a few moments before the previous chapter ended**)**

@---'---,----------------

The female stood there, in the middle of the street. Uncertainly watching Sirius Black and the male run toward what looked like a pitched battle. _'What should I do? What should I do?!'_ Panic and doubt clawed away at her fragile sense of purpose. Until, falling back, the **Other** let **her** take control.

Moody stumbled a few steps but regained her balance and saw Black dart around a distant corner. Deep inside, the **Other** was trembling._ 'I was getting ready for dinner… We were going to split detention so we could grade those Second Year essays…what happened? What did you get me into?!'_  From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Snape running toward what looked like a demolition site. Except for the huge Phoenix overhead. 

Her black eyes widened at the sight of the flaming insignia, _'If Snape is running to cut Black off,'_ she started running, _'Then I'll flank Black and we'll have him, and whoever he's trying to help.'_

*_No, it's a rescue mission.*_

_'So there **are** more of Albus' worshipers around, and we have them trapped. Good. Once we stop Black, we'll-'_

_*No.*_

The refusal stopped Severa in her tracks. **It** had never before refused an idea or an order. Things were definitely progressing, rapidly. The breath hitched in her throat. Memories of hundreds of nights spent, certain that there was more to her life than just her own, swirled around her. Around the immovable fact of Alastor's betrayal, and the fact that Lord Voldimort was the one to finally tell her the truth.

_'You are wrong.' _The certainty in her mind was absolute. Shaking the fragments of painful loyalty to her guardian aside she rushed toward the corner Black had disappeared around. _'My guardian was my jailor and it took his enemy to set me free.'_ Leaning against the building for support, and protection, she waited a moment to analyze the battle before her. Focusing on the violation of trust and fury at the betrayal, she directed the energy at the **thing** inside her. **It** withered from the scorching hate like a Grindylow in the sun. 

Black was between herself and what appeared to be two members of the Order, pinned down in front of a trinket shop. The building itself looked near collapse. On the far side of the paved and litter-strewn clearing, five Death Eaters were positioned in advantageous nooks. But they were still unable to get a clean shot at the annoying little Orderlings.

Ducking back as a spell missed Black and shattered the wall behind him, flinging pieces of wood everywhere, Severa drew her wand. Squinting slightly because of the hex induced haze she aimed taking her time. No one knew she was here and the threat of injury from friendly fire was minimal. Everyone's focus was on the other side of the street. 

A flutter of motion to her left at the exact moment she was speaking the words to her curse broke Severa's concentration. Her spell missed and hit a sign in a shop. All that could be read now was an outrageously decorative 'Z' the rest was scorched.

Her pulse was running at double-time and she was cold with sweat and the night air's chill. _'You did that on purpose!'_ She screamed in her mind.

*_I thought it was a threat!_*

Severa's eye widened is mild panic. _'So. You betray me now too?!'_

_*No! I mean only to protect you. This is madness. Voldimort told the truth yes, but he told it for a reason. He is using you just as much as they have. And he has done less to earn your trust or loyalty! Please jus-*_

A slash of brilliantly white electricity flickered from a dark alley across the intersection exploding a garbage skip. Bits of litter were thrown into the air. In the confusion of such powerful Magic being released with no apparent target the exchange of curses and hexes paused again. Sirius Black made a crouched run toward the stone planter where the other Order members were hiding.

Leaping out into the open she leveled her wand and violently stabbed at Black's back while shouting. "**Aveda Ca**-"

_***NO**!*_

Severa Moody was aware only of a rushing of claws and fangs and will. 

The female gasped as a second blast of lightning tore from the alley and across the street. Desperately her darkly blue eyes tried to make sense of Black and two smaller forms dashing into a crumbling building. 

Grabbing a deep lungful of air she twisted reality, just a little, and in a flash and cloud of glitter she appeared in the back of the shop. Three concussive hexes brought the front wall and most of the roof down at last. In blind panic she spread her arms wide and focused on somewhere safe yet close enough that she could get everyone there, intact.

~ 

The male held his breath. An awareness of her presence had been growing for some time, coming to his attention at the Halloween Ball, but her absence was starting to affect him too. When the female Garom was forced to Glam the Humans out of harms way he waited a few seconds, then Glammed himself to her side.

_'**His** freaked out relationship with **his** sister is not my concern,' _the male coldly forced the thoughts and feelings aside and kept his eyes closed while the glitter was still swirling through the air. When it settled he took in the scents first. _'The female, and Black ok… Potter? Weasley, Granger and Writtenhouse?! And, blood.'_  His pupils narrowed to slits as he tried to see. The female was curled up and whispering to herself shaking like a beaten dog…not a good sign. 

Sweeping the great silk cloak from his own shoulders and dropping it over Potter, he gave the Golden-Boy a cursory check for injuries. Nothing was broken or dislocated, But the large green eyes were vacant, pupils dilated, Potter was in mild shock. '_Which is a good thing,'_ the male decided._ 'Shock makes people easier to direct, easier to lead, easier to save.' _

He shoved his silk wrapped burden at Weasley. "I can't believe you allowed him to get into a confrontation like this," he hissed. Ron opened his mouth to defend himself but the male glared the redhead down. "You would be out of the Order if I could find someone to replace you. You have managed to endanger every single person in Hogsmead as well as everyone here. Now watch that tunnel," he shot a glance to his left, "They will be coming for us. Soon." He watched as Weasley lit his wand and took up a position beside the entrance they had just come through.

The male then moved to crouch low over Hermione. "Mister Writtenhouse," he growled. "Do back the smeg off. I can't work with you breathing down my neck." With a sigh he added, "No matter how much I may disdain your House, I will not further injure Miss Granger." The male waited until his spatial awareness told him that the Second Year boy had moved back several meters and then tried to diagnose what had been used against the Gryffindor-Brain-Trust _'A blood thinner… She'll need treatment before she can safely be moved, but I can't handle such a delicate case. I'm already trying to manage a hostile situation. While hiding in a filthy chamber, at the end of a Morlock tunnel! The female could handle this though, I think. She was hand raised by Grigory Yefimovich Rasputin, right?! If half the stories about him are true…' _

Not bothering to stand, he half crawled to the female Garom on his hands and toes. It would have been awkward, if it hadn't looked so cat like. He slowly reached for her right arm. She gave no resistance when he straightened it and did not draw it back around herself when he released her arm to fish in his boot for the syringe he always kept loaded with Blocker, just in case. 

"Not that it matters," he would have attempted a lopsided grin. But that just wasn't him. "It's clean though. You need to take it now, we can't afford to have **her** storming back while we're down here." She didn't react when he slid the needle into a vein in her wrist. Dropping the cap to the ground he slid the needle back inside, safely recapping it.

The blood collecting beneath Black required his attention next. Black was lying on his stomach and not moving. Kneeling beside the unconscious man he checked for injuries. Finding none he carefully checked Black's scalp, most of the blood loss was coming from cuts there. _'But scalp wounds bleed a lot, even when they're minor.'_

Behind him, the male could feel movement. Deliberately the female ran her hands through the air above the injured girl. Granger moaned and the male cringed at the noise. Pulling a few of the larger pieces of debris from Black's tangled hair he grimaced as fresh blood flowed. 

"Black is- he has never reacted well to Unframed Magic." He was speaking to the female. Trying to reassure himself. Black hadn't moved independent of his own direct physical manipulation. '_Another bad sign.'_ He shrugged that thought off as well. 

Carefully he rolled Black onto his back. Aside from a few cuts on his face and left hand, and a split lip, he was just unconscious. 

Aidan helped Hermione to her feet. Wanting to do something right in his superior's eyes, Ron watched the tunnel with a shame driven intensity. A discarded tin rattled and clanged as it skittered across the paving stones. One of the boys had accidentally kicked it, but when the male turned back, he could not tell which one, they all looked guilty; of course, they were all Gryffindors. 

Without time to think, he scooped Black into his arms and jumped to his feet. 

"We need to run. Miss Granger your heels will bruise but that is the nicest thing that could possibly happen at this point." The sound was too distant for the Humans to hear, but soon the approaching footsteps would carry the ever vigilant, and territorial, Morlocks to them. 

Black stirred a little then settled with his head against the male's chest.

The male fought for calm. The old nightmares were coming back. He had been good, hadn't gone back into any of the forbidden rooms or passages. But not even dawn would save him now, only speed and stealth.

He addressed the female Garom with orders. "I'll take vanguard then fall back, you take point and get them to the school. Give Potter your cloak and keep him with you. He is your priority." 

"I can't feel **her**." The female whimpered.

It wrung something inside him, something that almost hurt at the knowledge of her fear and pain. He caught her eyes and harshly whispered, "It's just like the Vacuum. **She** will be back." It was supposed to be reassuring. _'Maybe **she** won't react the way **he** did.'_

"**She** will seek revenge." 

"Well, yes." The male hissed impatiently. "I thank you for getting my Mark out, but next time **please** choose the site you're ending up at. You really couldn't have put us in a worse place without involving the Dark Lord himself. We need to move. Now."

Running in the dark tunnels beneath Hogsmead was not something he had ever wanted to do. Everyone in Slytherin knew what lived down there. Everyone in Slytherin knew what those things did, to pretty young girls and boys if they caught them. 

He was sending the female signals that he had no idea how she understood, or even how he knew how to send in the first place. The male was desperate, trying to forget everything he knew about the Morlocks while remembering the little he knew of their tunnels. The female was somehow telling him that they were coming up on a two way intersection, and he somehow told her which way to go. It worked, but it was creepy. 

With a dip of his head he signaled the female to stop at the next chamber they came to. Even carrying Black he wasn't being taxed physically. The sweat and harsh breathing were fear driven, as had been their flight. But now it was over.

"I'm lost." He made the announcement because it needed to be said. The female paled. She had been a Slytherin for only a few months but she knew of the Morlocks. 

Her voice was flat. "The children?"

He knelt and lay Black on the cold stones of the tunnel floor. "Black," he shook the man gently by the shoulder. "Black?" Unfocused dark brown eyes squinted open. 

"You?" Black croaked, nearly coherent, and looking sick. 

"Black, you need to throw up." Obviously the nausea hadn't registered yet, so he lifted Black's prison lean frame and helped him stand. 

"I don't feel so well…" He had one arm around his stomach and one hand braced against the wall. Brows knit trying to figure out where he was, Black actually looked quite pathetic.

"Just throw up," the male pitched his voice to a soothing purr. One arm still around Sirius' waist he brushed the long dark hair away from Black's forehead. "Everything else will be here to deal with when you're done." He was somewhat encouraged when Black took him at his rather meaningless word and surrendered to overwhelming nausea.

Ron was trying to help Hermione; her feet had in fact bruised rather badly. He had removed his robe and lain it out on the floor for her to sit upon.

Harry hadn't flung off the two cloaks, as the male had half expected him to, once they had stopped. Instead Harry was beating himself to pieces for having been the cause of all this mess. 

Aidan was looking a bit sick himself, trying not to watch Sirius vomit in the corner. 

The female watched their entrance and the potential exit in the far wall. She, at least, was doing better.

"I assumed we were under the building you took them from." He was holding Black's hair back so it would stay out of the way, out of the mess. '_As Black regains his composure he will no doubt realize where we are. Without the cover of a simple orange's scent to protect us! I've already taken him through the tunnels a few times, and the man already knew what to expect from the monsters down here. That threat was the only reason Black had eaten the orange on one of our trips. So what do I do now?!'_

He was supporting more of Black's weight as the vomiting eventually faded to dry heaves. Shifting his hold to stand behind Black, he pulled the trembling and exhausted body close to his own.

"We're under Hogsmead." Sirius hadn't been sure of where he was when he had drifted in and out for the last several minutes. He remembered the smell of leather and the feel of cool metal, like buckles. He shook his head and felt the arm around his waist tightened. At his back he felt the male draw a slow deep breath. Going ridged, instinctively, he harshly snapped, "The room isn't spinning anymore. You can let go. Now."

The male leaned over Black's shoulder. Sirius twisted in the male's grasp and craned his neck to meet the male's eyes. The male watched thoughts flicker through Black's mahogany orbs, and loosened his hold enough for Black to stand alone. 

The male spoke hurriedly and softly. "I think we can hold this place better than one of the tunnels. In your Animagus form you would not be of interest to them. If you and Mister Potter-"

"Harry!" Sirius jerked around trying to find his godson. He would have fallen, but the male caught him. Black didn't seem to notice, this time.

Putting Black back on his feet, the male held his shoulder tightly. Nearly touching the man's ear he hissed.  "Black, **listen** to me. We need to hold this place as long as we can. She and I," he indicated the female, "will survive far longer than the children. As a dog you are of no interest. Wrapped in silk Potter should be undetectable. Do you understand?"

"What time is it?" Black looked about frantically, finally realizing where they were.

"It is very nearly early." He really didn't want to have to dash Black's last hope.  _'I have to tell him though. He'll refuse to obey if I don't tell him how bad things really are.' _"Dawn is too far away to save us, and even if I thought we could stand that long I can't find fresh air. No passages to the surface."

Sirius drew his wand and whispered a Lumos, then gave a bitter laugh. "I hate the dark." 

He let the man go to check on the kids. Clocks he couldn't hear struck midnight, his internal clock was right on time. The male drew a small vial from an inner pocket. Across the room the female mimicked his actions withdrawing an identical vial of her own. 

Sirius had checked on Hermione and Ron, then made sure that Aidan still had his wand. He leaned against the wall beside Harry and reached over to snug the two layers of silk closer over the boy's shoulders and drew one of the hoods over Harry's eternally messy hair.

"Why is it so important that I wear these cloaks?" Harry muttered.

"Silk dampens Magic Harry," Sirius explained softly. "Makes it harder to track someone by their Maginetic signature." The male was taking his midnight dose of serum when Black addressed him from across the chamber. "It's going bad, you know."

Putting the vial away he shrugged. "Hadn't really noticed that one Black." He moved to check the air in one of the tunnels. There had been something…

"The Potion." Black clarified as he pulled the second hood over Harry's head. "The Plasti-juice, it's going bad."

The male continued to try and ignore the irrelevant nonsense that Black kept blithering. There had been something in the air of the tunnel he was guarding. Something he couldn't quite detect.

"I can't believe you're poisoning yourself with that junk." 

Black wasn't taking his inattention the way he had hoped. "Black, be silent and become a dog," he growled.

"When our time's up." The absolute immovability in Sirius' voice caused the male to glance up. Their eyes locked briefly and Black was left with the impression of nearly being devoured by something a good deal more dangerous than a Morlock.

The male looked away. "That, I understood." He motioned with one hand, directing Weasley to get up and take over watching the female's tunnel. Something was coming, and the Morelocks were following it straight to them.

Sirius had been silent, thinking over the male's responses. "I can't believe you don't recognize that the Plasti-juice you're taking is spoiling."

"Black, if I knew how to brew Plasti-juice maybe I'd know more about it. I never really bothered to research it though. It's not all that effective and really doesn't have that many applications." He caught the female's attention with a glance in her direction. Moving aside he let her test the air in the tunnel.

"You, didn't brew it?" Black was frantically putting pieces together in his head.

The female took a few steps into the tunnel; her eye shine glimmered off of the moist brick walls. "It reminds me of you," she whispered, her expression distant with concentration. "Like a part of you." She returned to the soft light of their chamber. 

Some one had charmed a few bricks in the ceiling to glow. He wouldn't have authorized it, but the male wasn't about to try and determine who had done it. 

Black squinted through the loose hair that fell in his eyes. The single thin braid with the smooth green bead at his temple, the male's Mark, swung lazily when he tilted his head to clear his vision. "Did Snape brew it then?"

"Black I told you- I **just** told you I didn't brew the damn Potion."

"Well let me tell you about it then." Black aggressively advanced on the male. "Once it's brewed it's good for about twenty years. According to you, you've been taking it for twenty years or so. The black eyes and junk in your lungs is because the fusion is coming apart. I haven't got a clue why Albus would want to blend a Garom with either Snape or Miss Moody, but he did. And now you're dying."

The male almost smiled as Sirius glared, standing nearly close enough so he could count the Human's pulse, if it were only a little quieter in the room. _'If he weren't so easy to manipulate I'd have to Break him…'_ A shudder edged past his cool façade. The last time he had Broken someone it had been a matter of necessity. Even Alastor Moody had left the room before he was done.

Black, naturally, misunderstood the male's slight tremor and gave his usual fear based response; holding his breath going ridgid and emotionally withdrawing as fast as he could. A slight noise behind him and Sirius was a moment too late to stop the female from throwing a spell that caused Harry to drop to the floor. Even though she caught the limp boy, Sirius was after her with his wand out and a curse ready.

The male grabbed Black's wrist and forced his wand to point to the ground. "We needed to do it Black." He whispered into the man's ear. "Those guards in Azkaban really are paragons of virtue next to the Morlocks. I won't let them take the children." He felt Sirius' eyes dart over the chamber's interior. All four youth's were unconscious and lying on the floor.

"I'll die first," Black whispered.

"You don't need to Black." The male countered. He took up a position beside the tunnel he had been investigating, the female began watching the other. "I was just walking back to Slytherin Common when they jumped me." He was murmuring almost as aimlessly as Black had been doing a few moments before. The foul serum felt like it was burning down his throat still. He tried to focus on important things and let go of the control he usually kept on his thoughts and words. "I told you once, that I don't like the dark."

"But," Black looked up from making sure the children were safe, again. Vaguely something was registering; something of the sort had been said on their trip back from Smeagol Lake. "Your eyes glow, how would you even be in the dark?"

"They locked me in one of the old Guard Quarters, I told you that much. Back then, you see, before I was able to do anything about the way the House was run, the Morlocks would sometimes make raids in the back passages of the dungeons."

Sirius knew where the story must be going. He wanted desperately to stop it, but couldn't. "They found you." He wasn't asking. He already knew. 

The male was wired. Too much energy and no release. A rare reaction to the Potion, but not totally unfamiliar. "When the Morlocks tired of what little sport I provided, they left me. I couldn't move for hours. Healing as quickly as I usually do has drawbacks. They were able to, play, with me for longer than usual because I was healing between, rounds."

_'Stop.'_ Sirius was nearly sure he had mouthed the word and not just thought it. But the male wasn't looking at him so it made no difference.

"I found a passage to fresh air. It was just before dawn, the Morlocks had fled from the increasing light. I passed a cemetery and saw a Vampire take one last look at something, before he flew off. That's how I met Starch." He gasped a painful laugh. "I was bleeding again, from climbing the ladder. Starch was trying to keep from draining me he was so desperate for blood."

"Starch," the female echoed.

The male held his breath and turned to follow the female's eyes. Trapped in his mid twenties, thin and gray tinged; the Exotic Vampire soundlessly emerged from the impenetrable black of the tunnel. In a blur of motion the male was suddenly clinging to Starch.

He was shaking and a single strangled sob passed his lips. As sudden as his reaction had been, it was over. Dropping his arms from around Starch's neck he stepped back. "Can we make it to the surface?"

It took Starch a moment longer to recover from the elation that the male had fed him through their blood link. "I didn't come from the surface," his voice was raw. Thin slightly rust colored tears welled up in his gray eyes, but refused to fall. "If I can get you back into the system connected to the school, can you find a passage back to the dungeons?"

The male gave a sharp nod and started making plans. "Black, can you carry Potter?" To the female he snapped, "Wake Weasley we need his wand. You're with Writtenhouse." 

Sirius knew an answer was not required. He gathered Harry into his arms and whispered a lightening charm to reduce the boys weight so he could run. 

Starch checked Hermione, drew his wand and performed a few fine healing spells before taking the girl into his arms. He caught the redheaded boy watching him cautiously, and smiled. "Mister Ron Weasley, I believe?" At a grudging nod he continued. "You are right, I am  a Vampire, and an Exotic at that. I can also take better care of her than anyone, alive."

The female was carrying Aidan Writtenhouse as though he were a baby; one arm under his shoulders keeping his head to her shoulder, her other arm around his shins forcing him to curl into a tight ball. It looked awkward, but kept their weight more centered.

The male gave a silent, motionless, command and Starch and the female led the mad dash into the dark.


	46. Marked For Life

Some is mine, some isn't. I make no money or claimes to anything that I did not invent including but not limited to; characters, places, items, past happenings, and plot.

Lots of perspective here, I know. Sorry. I have never written anything before, so I am trying to figure out how to bring this to the end…while I am reaching the end. This is not the last chapter, so don't freak. But things may get awkward as I get closer to the end. Like I said, I've never written a climax or conclusion before.

**Gryffindor-210 Points- **Frogfoot receives 10 points for diligent and careful reading…rather un Gryffindor. Your parents wouldn't happen to have been Ravenclaws, would they?

**Slytherin-270 Points- **if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**Ravenclaw-20 Points! **if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**Huffelpuff**- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**WARNING **ADULT THEMSE i.e. past violence, non-con, yucky eating habits, and disturbing stuff are discussed and people, who are concerned that their parents may see this warning and disallow them to read, should not read the chapter. 

People who are excited/eager to find out what could motivate my adding this warning, should be monitored by trained professionals.

****This chapter is dedicated to Chay. You helped me, looked over this as I was working on it, and came up with ideas I already had, but was not sure enough of to try. Thank you.****

Chapter 46:

In the brightly lit infirmary the Headmaster, Alastor Moody, Minerva and Madam Pomfrey huddled around the four newly Revivioed Gryffindor students. Much fuss was made over Hermione's bruises and Aidan's erratic heart rate. 

Harry received a stern talking to from his female Head of House, interspersed with an abundance of pats, and hugs from his godfather. He seemed to be somewhere between battle fatigue and bewilderment. 

Ron's hindsight motivated regret was alleviated by a nod of approval from Alastor Moody. He really had behaved as heroically as any seasoned frontline soldier for the Order. 

Lenore had alerted Albus to her fears about the implications behind Starch's sudden departure from her side. Starch held her close while she cried in relief at his safe return.

Over his wife's sea-green tinged, blond head, Starch glimpsed two figures lurking for a moment in the shadows outside the Medical-wing door. Exhausted, with shoulders slumped and heads held low, the two Garoms hesitated. Starch blinked, and they were gone.

After an impassioned plea from Hermione, that they not inform her parents of the attack that had occurred, and a short but heated conference between Starch, Albus, and Alastor, it was decided to offer her the option of having her memory altered so that she would forget everything back to and including the initial decision to sneak out that night. She accepted.

~

Sunday night, at midnight, in the secure room within the headmaster's official office the heads of the Order of the Phoenix gathered around a small bedside table with a globe-like nightlight floating above it. The soft glow within illuminated cuddly representations of each House. The Slytherin Basilisk even had a smile.

The four Heads of the Order were seated on bedroomish furniture. Albus Dumbledore had the red velvet, overstuffed, chair while Alastor Moody sat atop a saffron yellow frilled vanity stool. Rita Skeeter was trying to complete her report while being swallowed alive by a large marine blue beanbag chair. 

The male had walked in, the last to arrive, promptly flopped bonelessly onto the forest green comforter that covered the daybed, closed his eyes, and ignored the rest of the group.

Rita was not letting her undignified seat interrupt the flow of her words as she finished her report. "Even with every busybody in town who works under me telling everyone that it was an escaped Orang-Bati and not The Phoenix over Diagon – and do I need to say that that excuse is getting really old? People are going to start to take political action to put stricter controls on animal breeders unless we come up with something new. Where was I?"

"Nearly done?," Alastor offered hopefully. He was seriously considering either using a headache relieving charm, or creating a new training lesson involving unending barrages of annoying chatter. It would help shore up his troops endurance no doubt.

Rita glared at Alastor for a moment. "I think that the story I set into motion, another gang of punks looking to make a name for themselves by imitating Death Eaters, is going to hold. A gang war won't exactly make anyone feel safe, but it is better than having them know the truth. For now."

There was a pause, while all eyes turned to the male. 

"I'll have my full report ready by next Sunday. You can sod off if that doesn't meet with your approval." He hadn't opened his eyes or moved more than the necessary minimum.

Alastor lost what little patients he had remaining. "Can you at least tell us what the hell prompted Voldemort to attack?"

The male finally moved, but it was only to drape his left arm over his eyes. "It was in retaliation against the failed attack on the Muggles. Lucius was in line for promotion to Fate."

"Bullocks! That attack was two weeks ago!" Alastor countered.

"This is where I tell you to sod off." The male lapsed back into silence.

After a few details were worked out, dealing mostly with the surveillance of the Ministry agents stationed practically at their gates, the meeting broke up.

"A moment?" The male called as Albus rose to follow Moody and Skeeter into the shadows and back to his office.

"Yes?" Albus cautiously moved closer to the daybed where the male still lay. "What is it?"

"You should check on Black." The male listlessly dropped his right hand over the edge of the mattress, grabbed an edge of the comforter and curled into the blanket while rolling away from the Headmaster's outstretched hand. "I don't really want to see him right now, but I think he needs checking on."

"Why don't you want to see him?" Albus' voice was gentle as he attempted to pry information from the male. 

The response was mumbled into a fluffy pillow. "I don't want to deal with it, don't want to resolve it."

_'_The answer made no sense to Albus, butthe male rarely gave the same answer twice, so Albus simply asked again. "Why do you not want to see him?"  

"If I resolve this thing for **him**…I'll have resolved all but the last of **his **issues." The male whispered, "When all the other problems are resolved…**I** will be the only one left…" 

Long after Albus had left the room, the male remained where he was. He whispered the rest of his thought to the cheerful nightlight. "…And I don't really deserve to continue."

~

Monday morning at the far end of the Head Table, Professor Severa Moody sat alone. The empty seat beside her would have been taken by Snape, but he was not in attendance that morning. 

Neville slowed as he entered the Dining Hall and passed the line of seated professors. For some reason Snape's absence was bothering him. He clutched the strap on his pack tighter and quickly chose a seat where he could face away from the dark eyes of Potions Master's Assistant Moody. 

After eating a few distasteful mouthfuls his slight ill feeling had grown to distress. He had to see professor Snape. _'Or, well, the Garom really. He's the one I need to see…'_ The sudden clarity was disconcerting. _'Why do I need to see him so badly?'_ But his feet were already taking him from the bright chatter of breakfast, straight to the dungeons.

Neville paused to peek inside the Potions Classroom. Though he hadn't expected to find the Garom there, the fact that he wasn't there was worrisome. Softly closing the door again Neville stepped back to the center of the passage. "So," he looked right, toward the safety represented by the stairs that would lead him back up to the rest of the school. Then down the hall on his left. _'The Slytherin House entrance is somewhere down there…and…maybe…the Garom. Somewhere.'_ His school pack hung at his side and he heaved it up so the strap looped over his shoulder. "I've got my assignments, so I don't really need to go back to the common room before class." One last look over his shoulder, and Neville set off to find the male.

The door was uncharmed. Neville hadn't expected this. The Heads of Slytherin really were supposed to have disguised doors and hidden passages and all manner of hexes, and probably worse, guarding their private quarters. Not a simple iron ring handle on a thick looking wooden door crossed by iron straps. The whole thing seemed wrong. 

Taking a breath he raised his hand to knock on the foreboding door, when it swung inward suddenly.

The male Garom was standing in the doorway wearing the same Victorian suit that Neville had seen before and he was, chewing on a mouthful of something. The male held a broad, shallow bowl in his left hand and in the other a pair of chopsticks were angled back toward his forearm so that he could open the door.

After a long pause the Garom quirked one eyebrow. "And?"

"I accept." Neville blinked. _'What did I just say?!'_

"If that's all then…" The male was shutting the door again.

"No, wait!" Neville put a hand out to stop him. "What did I just say? Why am I even here?"

The male opened the door again and regarded him for a moment. "You are here because I instructed you to come to me when you had made your decision." The male took a bite of, whatever it was, and chewed thoughtfully. "I suppose all you needed was a goodnight's sleep." Taking another bite the male added, "You have agreed to begin training as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I felt it only fair to offer you the chance to join of your own free will; all things considered I owe that much to your grandmother. Hag that she is," he added, under his breath.

Neville again had to stop the male from closing the door. "Wait! My grandmo—no, wrong question, what do you mean you instructed me? When did you…" Slowly the memory was freed from the restraints that the male had placed on it. The Halloween Ball. The male speaking to Harry and his friends, and when the male was slipping away, a signal had been given to follow. The conversation in the hall, the offer of a place in the Order. It all came back.

"I suppose it's the memory thing," the male spoke around another mouthful. "But your skill in interrogation has sadly deteriorated. I think you have enough to think about without my adding anymore, mess. So," he flicked the ends of his chopsticks, "—off to class."

Neville did not stop the door this time. He did indeed have enough to think about. And a class to get to.

~

The male rolled his eyes as his meal was again interrupted by someone approaching his door. Pulling the heavy door open he announced, "It is only November and already I have had eight visitors this year."

Sirius lowered his fist and shrugged. "Wow?" he offered.

Impatiently the male fiddled with his chopsticks. "I wasn't sure you'd come today." Stepping back into the shared sitting room he made a sweeping motion with the bowl in his left hand. "If you want to, you're welcome. Otherwise get out of my space until you are ready." He turned and walked away from the door, leaving behind a very confused Sirius Black.

"Ready?" Sirius cautiously entered and closed the door. "You, knew I'd be coming…"

He could hear in Black's voice, how unsettling that thought had been. _'May as well take away every blind he's got. No reason to prolong this any.'_ With a shrug he corrected Black. "Today or tomorrow, wasn't really sure which." Going to the small pot still on the table and scooping up another bowlful he took more time than necessary. _'All I have to do is keep **him** safe and sane until this is over. That is all I was created for. Black is a means to that end…so why does fulfilling my purpose feel so hollow?'_

When the male turned to face Black he found that the man had remained close to the door but was studying him intently. "You could take the seat," the male offered and motioned with his chopsticks toward the only chair in the room. "Or the sofa," he gestured toward the wall opposite Sirius where the small reading couch, that had used to be a chair, was positioned beside the fireplace and bookshelves.

Sirius had been watching him for a few minutes now, and the male's easy, open air seemed wrong. _'He never entertains polite conversation, just for the sake of being pleasant.'_ "You sent Albus to check on me," he accused. "Late last night and again this morning. Why?" The male was returning his stare for a moment, but then his attention seemed to wander and the piercing blue eyes were sweeping over the rest of the room again.

Without look at Black the male deliberately pronounced, "You. Are. Mine. I take care of what is mine." He shrugged again, "That's all the reason I need."

Sirius felt his chest tighten and he held his breath until the flickers of old fear passed. "Tala told me, that you chose your Marks because they shared something, a problem or hurt, with you. One you could not face in yourself—" 

"Black, I have said it before, I will not speak of this with you." The male grit his teeth. _'I only need to get past this then, once **he** is healed, **he** can do with me as he sees fit. I can't do it! But, maybe, I can get Black to do this for me…'_ Turning so he could just see Black from the corner of his eye, he pointed out, "It's not as though we are in the Morlock tunnels anymore."

Before he could check himself, Sirius was nearly close enough to touch the male. With fists clenched he bit back on his frustration. "You did choose me. You did Mark me. You told me about what the Morlocks did to you, and then you sent Albus to check on me." A small piece of the puzzle fell into place, "To bait me into coming here…Why?" Thinking over his own words Sirius distantly noticed that he had begun to breathe a little faster and shallower than normal.

The male felt each word from Black as a nail in his coffin. _'Not that the saying really applies to the likes of me,'_ he nearly laughed at the irony in his own thoughts. Waiting silently for Black to make the final move, he continued to take small bites.

Sirius rubbed at his eyes. Changing the subject, he tried to find a way to calm his rattled nerves. "I'm interrupting your breakfast." The male did not react, unless the slight shift in his stance counted. "What is that anyway?"

"The House Elves don't particularly care to cook according to my preferences, I'm not any good at it, but I've learned to cook a little. It's cuscus, and liver."

Sirius looked into the pot, the small bits of meat and granular pasta did not look the least appetizing. "What is that sauce?" his nose wrinkled at the thick clumpy texture of the stuff.

Sighing softly the male resigned himself to waiting out Sirius' own realizations. "It's not a sauce. Well, Starch might consider it such, but other than in the eyes of a Vampire or something of like bent, blood isn't really considered a sauce."

"Blood," Sirius jerked his eyes from the nearly empty pot to meet the male's eyes.

"The liver I add after the cuscus is cooked. House Elves prefer to serve more, healthful meals." Black continued to pale, and his distraction from the point of their meeting was becoming vexatious. "Come on Black. It's not Human. And even if it were, it's not as though I would take some one you knew. I wouldn't hurt you like that." The male looked away again, and hoped that Black would take up the reminder of their earlier conversation.

The way the male's eyes kept sliding away from his…Sirius felt that there was something there. Something he should be able to see. His eyes widened, the male flinched slightly but he failed to notice. "You can't face it," Sirius whispered. "You chose me because you could not face what they did, you still can't face it."

Panic flooded his system. The male clicked his chopsticks for a moment, then twirled them with his fingertips. Black was about to make the connection, that he had been chosen to make. He had known that Black would have the strength to face it, but now that it was happening… The hand on his shoulder startled him enough that he dropped the chopsticks. He knew it was Black, he had been aware of Black's approaching and of Black's tension, and so he did not strike back as his instincts screamed at him to.

Sirius grabbed the male and forcibly turned him, pushing him back against the near wall. "Fine, I'll say it. I'll end this game," his voice shook and he pushed harder against the male's shoulder.  The male dropped his bowl and neither of them noticed. His voice close to a snarl, Sirius couldn't see clearly. "You can't face the fact that the Morlocks tagged you, and you need me to help you get past it?! Fine! They raped me! I couldn't do a damn thing about it and I still have nightmares, I can't even turn my back on Remus, and every one of those guards got their bit of sport out of me. The Morlocks raped you! Face it! Face it and let me alone with my fear and my—my shame—" his voice finally failed. But he refused to let the tears fall.

Cautiously he raised his eyes to meet Black's. "My problem has never been acknowledging what was done Black, it has been my refusal to accept the guilt I feel. I know it was my fault, I just can't accept that though. Help me. Tell me what my part was. You were innocent, I know, but where was my sin?"

A gasping sob shook his body and Sirius' forehead came to rest in the male's shoulder. Clutching the male's overcoat with both fists he felt the tears wetting the cloth beneath his face. "Why?!" He choked on the plea and could say no more. 

The male was unable to hide from the emotions that Black was unknowingly forcing into his mind. The physical contact was channeling into him the pain and shame and guilt that Sirius felt, and they were the matches to his own long buried scars. 

_'Black was innocent! Why does he feel the same… no… I had to be at fault! I must have been! I can't be innocent, too. I'm too dirty to be innocent.'_ The tears that ran from his eyes were a little thicker than the pure saltwater flowing from Black's eyes, and they bore traces of grey, but they were real. He hesitantly placed his left hand on the back of Black's neck and with his right he combed though the man's dark hair. He had no words to speak, and so remained silent.

Neither moved to break from the embrace for a very long time.


	47. Straining For Release

Do I really need a disclaimer? Do any of you think I own any of the Harry Potter characters? Or what about any of the other elements from other universes that I've borrowed? And do any of you think I'm making money off this? If so then you're wrong. Sorry! 

**Gryffindor-220 Points- **DnD4Ever receives 10 Points for sensitivity and insight; Frogfoot receives 10 points for lovely long reviews (I curl up and purr while reading lengthy reviews)

**Slytherin-280 Points- **Chay receives 10 Points and acknowledgement for helping with my confidence and beta work 

**Ravenclaw-10 Points- **if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**Huffelpuff**- **10 Points** Vicky….well, ok you didn't tell me which House you were in, but I decided that anyone who will trip upon a fic as leeding long as mine, and read the whole thing without first loving Snape and fanfic, must be a diligent longsuffering little Huffer. If I'm wrong just e-me and I'll change it.

Chapter 47:

Harry's actions, in leading the disastrous rule-breaking scheme, did not go unpunished.  In fact Hermione was the only one to escape any sort of punishment, unless Ron's assertion was right and her detention for dropping a quill in Potions really was Snape's being petty, after the Headmaster had pardoned the girl.

Hermione, for her part, was concerned for a few days. The guys were uncomfortable around her and she worried that she had done something wrong. 

Eventually though Harry, Ron and Aidan got used to the idea that Hermione really didn't remember nearly dying, and that she just accepted the story everyone else had heard; that Snape had caught them in the halls and had seen to it that they received draconian punishments for it.

Wednesday, after classes, when the rest of the Gryffindor team went to practice for the game on the coming Saturday, Harry and Ron trudged down to the dungeons. They had both been benched, with detentions, for the next two weeks. 

Aidan was relatively happy to have detention with Filch. The guy wasn't Snape or Professor Moody, Aidan pointed out. Plus, he was used to doing chores without the aid of Magic, so he figured he had it better than Harry and Ron.

Rather anticlimactically, when Harry and Ron arrived in the Potions classroom, there was only a note on the chalkboard. 

~~~   Materials have been set out on desks for you. You will copy the documents and when finished place them on my desk. Any smudging, miss spellings, sloppiness or other imperfection will require that you start the entire document over. 

As a, precautionary note, I would advise that you not bleed on the parchments. 

SS   ~~~

"Well, that's simple, for a Snape detention," Ron cheered slightly.

Harry wasn't so sure. "But the warning at the end. Ron. Why would we bleed at all? The fact that Snape obviously feels strongly enough about it to warn us is not exactly comforting."

The desks that had been equipped with writing supplies and blank parchments were on opposite sides of the chamber. 

Ron offered a wan smile, heading for the far desk. "Well," he chuckled. "Look on the bright side Harry. At this point Aidan has it worse than we do."

"Ron," Harry groaned, looking at the document he was to copy. 

"Yeah Harry?"

"Can you read this? Cause I can't."

Ron looked at his own scroll then Harry's. "Well," he shrugged with resigned humor. "I was wondering why Snape was taking it so easy on us. It's gonna take for ever to make sure we get these stupid squiggles copied right."

Harry shuddered with the first stroke of his quill, a type of feather that he was unfamiliar with, tipped with a gold nib. The ink wasn't black but a deep red. Snape's warning came back to him_. '"I would advise that you not bleed on the parchments._"_'_ Harry suddenly found himself unaccountably glad that he could not read the arcane writing.

@---'---,------------------

Blue eyes flashing, the male stared down at Sirius Black. They had met on the stairs to the dungeon, Sirius coming up, the male heading back down. It wasn't a chance meeting; the male could smell Black's scent thick in the passage. _'No, this was not an accidental meeting, this was an ambush.'_

Muttering a non-Magic curse under his breath, the male closed his eyes and rubbed at them. He gave the impression of being very frustrated, but it was pain, not aggravation, that motivated his actions. With the doors open in the west facing rooms, there was a great deal of indirect sunlight in the hall, and all he wanted was to escape to the darkness of his dungeon. 

"I want to talk with you," Sirius stated.

Holding the bridge of his nose, the male made an impatient sound. "I don't want to talk. In fact," he slid past Black, turning sideways to do so. "I don't even want to listen." 

Sirius let out a frustrated breath and dogged the male's steps to the Potions classroom. He had been about to speak again, when he reached the door and found Harry and Ron in detention. "What did you blame them for this time?" He growled belligerently.

"I can see you're going to be a joy at the parent teacher conferences," the male casually sneered back. "Mister Potter, this is unacceptable. Do pay attention to the accent marks." As an afterthought he pointed out the tiny curved line ending with a dot that rested above something that looked a little like an Irish knot. 

Dropping the rejected parchment into the fireplace, the male stooped for a moment to watch his Expunge send out tendrils to twine about and dissolve the page. Then he left the room without further comment.

"I'm sorry Harry." Sirius smiled thinly. "I think he's taking a lot of our bad blood out on you." When his godson shrugged and muttered something about greasy Slytherin gits, he nearly laughed. But then the words, and their meaning, hit him. 

"Harry, he-" Sirius shook his head. The green bead swung back and forth, reminding him of things he was not comfortable with. '_Like being owned by Something that isn't being very clear on exactly what I'm being owned for.''_ "Harry, he does have a lot of reasons to be mad at me. I wasn't exactly nice to him." '_Either of them really, Snape or the Garom.'_ "Just, don't take things at face value, ok?" Sirius quickly left the room to chase down the male, again, and to get away from Harry's look of skeptical wariness. 

~

The male left his door open. Black would be coming and he wanted every piece of advantage he could scrape together. The pain in his head was diminishing, in the soothing darkness of his dungeons, but now the burns on his back were calling for attention. 

"What did they do to you at the Revel?" 

He didn't even flinch with a suppressed reflex action; Starch's presence was more familiar than his own. The pale Exotic was sprawled over the duvet at the back of the sitting room, ever-present courier style bad on the floor at his feet.

The constant chaffing of the high collared shirt had needed to be ignored, not every Slytherin in his House was on his side. Letting his pain show a little, the male moved more hesitantly, more cautiously, than he had allowed himself to all day. Going into his bedchamber he informed Starch that Black would be joining them shortly.

"That's alright," Starch called. "He's just arrived." Rising to his feet he made a welcoming gesture, encouraging the man at the door to enter. "Have a seat," he invited.

"Why does everyone offer me the chair as soon as I get here?" Sirius asked as he closed the sitting room door.

Starch smiled, "Because you are less of a Threat Priority when you are sitting down. You require less attention and can't cause as much trouble." Leaving the Human to think in peace, Starch nudged the male's bedroom door open enough so he could lean against the doorframe. "You want me to dress those burns for you?" Even though the male still wore a black tee shirt, the blood and burnt flesh were perfectly obvious to him.

The male glanced up, "I'm fine. I mean- it's not what you came for. You don't mind?" He let the bloody over shirt drop to the stone floor. "Fenny…**Fenny**?" Before he could call a third time the little House Elf appeared at the foot of the bed. "Fenny, You know the routine, burn the contaminated things and try to get the rest clean."

She gave a wide-eyed and fervent nod, immediately setting to work. She knew what to do. Such requests had been common before Voldemort's first fall from power. She had hoped that these sorts of cleanups wouldn't need doing again.

Looking over Starch's shoulder the male could see Sirius standing awkwardly in the middle of the sitting room beside the table and chair. When their eyes met the male, for an instant, felt like he was about to panic. He was always pale, but his skin took on a grey tinge, as though the blood had literally been drained from his body. The stillness of his stance was more than just freezing in mid motion, he really felt unable to move. And Black saw it all.

Sirius tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. "What is wrong with him?" He addressed Starch and flinched at the way his voice croaked.

"He is-" Starch's grey eyes turned from the male to Sirius while he tried to find the right words. "This is a programmed response. He was conditioned to never let his wounds or pain show. Some of that was natural, he's part cat and all, but they heightened it. Turned it into a fear based response, one he has a lot of trouble overriding."

Finally the male forced enough movement to breathe. _'He'll see me! I can't go out there, what if he- he's my Mark I can't even hurt him to defend myself!'_ The ointment that had been hastily applied a few hours ago was loosing its pain relieving effects and the burns on his back really did need to be treated.

Necessity finally forced a decision. The emotional turmoil was waking **him** up, and that was to be avoided at even the cost of being vulnerable in front of some one he wasn't certain he could trust. Staying very close to Starch, he timidly reentered his own sitting room.

_'Black is staring and I haven't got enough clothes on to hide.'_ His stomach muscles clenched in anticipation of a fight, but Black made no move, threatening or otherwise, aside from relinquishing the straight-backed chair at Starch's request. 

When Starch told him to sit he broke eye contact with Black to turn the chair around, and sat, straddling it. About to remove his tee shirt he hesitated. Glancing over his shoulder, to again make sure that Starch wasn't leaving him, he used both hands to pull the bloody undershirt up and off. Starch took the ruined tee and tossed it to Fenny. Bare from the waist up, the male crossed his arms over the chair's back and braced himself for any pain that Starch's ministrations might bring.

"This'll burn like hell," Starch murmured in his ear. A jar of something that smelled like a kind of herbal enhanced soap, was opened. Fenny silently brought a bowl of warm water and set it on the table. Starch dismissed her. Once she was gone he dug into the messenger bag he had left beside the sofa. Pulling out a scrub brush he set to work removing the charred skin and debris from the male's back.

"What happened to you?" Black gasped, horrified. Even looking away the wet, rough, sound of the brush against the male's back was nauseating.

"I saved your life." The male grunted then dropped his head to rest on his crossed arms. "Someone on the team that had carried out the –failed- retaliatory attack on Hogsmead saw me aiding the Orderlings. **His** assertion that killing them in so blatant a way, on top of the resent skirmishes, would have forced the Ministry to become openly involved, was accepted, but Istill needed to be punished. 'For not thinking of a way to kill them without raising the Ministry's ire.' According to the Dark Lord." His lips twisted into a rueful sneer. "Just another chance to prove they can control me."

Black tore his eyes from the sickening mess that had been made of the male's back. "The wrist irons in the wall…an interesting choice in decor." He really didn't care what they talked about; he'd be willing to babble about anything to cover the hiss of pain the male had let out just then.  

"You've got the armory, if I remember correctly. Not the best layout potential there either." The pain was bad, but with Starch at his back and Black too sickened to be any real threat, he was beginning to relax again, and as he did, **he** settled back to sleep. 

"Armory?" Black had been looking over the sitting room while they spoke, and his attention was drawn to something odd about the male's bedroom door. "Why do you have an extra handle in your door?" He asked. 

"It's not an extra handle." He tried to focus on what Black was doing, what he was saying, where he was looking, anything but the pain. "Slide the bolt to the right," he instructed. 

Black stopped himself from glancing back at the male. Instead, for once, he did as requested. It was obvious that no one had performed the whole bolt sliding thing for a long time because it stuck, terribly. When it did finally move, a panel just a bit lower than shoulder height, and large enough to send 'Hogwarts, a History' through, opened. "Ok," Sirius was newly puzzled. "Then why do you have a window in your bedroom door?"

Starch had rinsed out the brush, and cleaned it as best he could, in the bowl, but he had to get fresh water. He rose from where he had ended up kneeling, and moved in front of the male. Carefully placing a hand on the male's greasy black head he waited for a sign that the male felt safe enough that he could leave, if only to go to the next room. The male nodded, and silently he went to the bathroom for the water.

The male mumbled, "It's a ration slot Black." He did not open his eyes. "The chains on the walls and the rack in the closet are original. I actually turned the water chamber into a shower, wasn't all that hard really. The bedrooms were isolation chambers. This was the dungeon Black. You know. Castles. Dungeons. Torture." He dragged one eye open, just enough to slant a look at the shocked face of Sirius Black. 

Sirius couldn't have missed the sliver of blue shine; the male was looking at him, gauging his reaction. Uncomfortable under the scrutiny, he followed Starch to the bathroom. "What's your relationship with him?" Sirius looked away from the sight of bits of flesh being pulled from the bristles of a scrub brush. "I mean, you've got a wife, right? So…"

"You're an awfully cute nibblet, when you're trying to think that hard, but I suggest you find something else to question. My fidelity to Lenore is not open for discussion."

Sirius fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "You said he was programmed." 

"Ah, now that would be what you should have started with. I have no real idea why but the older I get, the less I appreciate coyness in thumpers."

"You're not going to explain it are you?" Sirius stepped back so that Starch could carry a fresh bowl of water and the clean brush to the table. "He hasn't got a clue, and even though you do you're not going to tell me anything."

"Black, you used to be fond of riddles, just treat this like a really strange riddle." Starch ruffled the male's hair and wet the brush. Lathering the cleanser into a thick foam, he let the sudsy water drip onto the flaking and pealing skin on the male's back. The soap had minor anesthetic properties and he wanted them to have a chance to take effect before starting again.

The male arched his back, trying to get the water to run over as much skin as possible. "Last time I let someone hurt me this much was getting the burns in the first place." 

"When I'm done here you're going to take a shower." Starch set his jaw and closed his throat before raking the brush over the male's right shoulder removing the grey ash and layers of dead skin beneath. "No arguments?"

"Showers are not my responsibility," the male gripped the chair back and rested his forehead on his hands. "But, anything for you Starch, you know that."

When Starch was done the male shakily rose to his feet, resting for a minute, braced against the chair. Taking the bowl of dirty water and the brush he carefully made his way to the bathroom. 

Starch dug into his bag and fished around until he found what he was after; a deep red lollipop. Stuffing the wrapper back into the bag he closed his eyes and sucked the candy.

"That's a blood pop isn't it," Sirius hadn't really meant it as a question. 

The low hum reverberating from Starch's chest wasn't really meant as an answer. Pulling the sucker from his mouth, Starch's words were slurred because his fangs had dropped. "It'th a bit like thelf medication. All that blood…all, hith…" He kept his eyes closed. The heaviness in his chest was settling lower in his abdomen as the hunger increased. "I haven't tathted Human in more than eight hundred yearth. And I haven't tathted live for more than five hundred. If there were a drug that would dull the hunger, I'd get thtoned. The only thing I've found that helpth, ith a very good imagination." He resumed sucking on the poor substitute.

Sirius felt an uncomfortable pity for the Vampire who lay limp, and obviously unsatisfied, on the sofa. He couldn't exactly offer his own arm. The fact that the idea even occurred to him, even if it was just so it could be refused, was unnerving. He would have sat on the straight-backed chair, but he couldn't look at it. So he sat on the edge of the table, well away from the water rings that had been sloshed from the rinse bowl.

The male was careful to rinse off all traces of blood. The falling water sluiced the loose bits of skin off, but he couldn't really feel it. Aware that he was still mildly numbed he had kept the water temperature low, no sense in making things worse. Shivers, mild but annoying, told him it was time to get dried off. Returning to the sitting room wearing a bathrobe over his boxers, he approached the Vampire on the small couch.

Sirius stared for a moment, then, in an outraged voice shouted, "That's **my** bathrobe!" The plaid was that of his family and only the bizarreness of seeing it on the male had made him doubt his recognition.

"It **was** yours." The male smirked. "You lost it and never reclaimed it. It's been mine for over ten years now." 

"What?"

 "I've collected all of this," he motioned to include the bookcases and furniture. "Forgotten quills, discarded parchments, I had to start somewhere."

Starch quirked one grey eyebrow and entered the conversation. "Is that where you got those monochromatic Victorian clothes?"

The male ducked his head and walked the rest of the way to his bedchamber door, before answering softly. "The frockcoat and rest were from **his** father. Only thing the git ever did for us." As though he feared interruption, he hurriedly added, "I know you feel different Starch, but I've spent a lot more time holding back **his** tears because of something my Master wouldn't, or couldn't give us-**him**, than I have doing anything else involving the old fool." Forcing his eyes to meet Starch's for a moment he let a harsh laugh drop from his lips. "You're one to talk, grey and black. Not even any white except your hair."

Starch waited until the male had closed his door. Then called, loudly enough to carry through the wooden obstruction, "I haven't got soul deep blue eyes to accent, you git!"

Dressing quickly the male came back out holding a clean tee shirt, white this time. "You said something about dressing the burns?" 

Starch picked up his bag and moved to stand beside the chair. The male sat as before, straddling the seat and facing the back. Sirius swung his legs, a bit nervous about possibly having another, obviously pain filled procedure, go on. The Vampire brought out a new jar, filled with a pale yellowy-green, gooey substance. He scooped out a fair sized puddle and began spreading it over the male's shoulders. "Head down," he mumbled. "Your hair is getting in this stuff."

The male silently complied. "Doesn't hurt," he made it sound like a question.

"It shouldn't. "

Closing his dusky blue eyes, the male relaxed under the touch. "Will you be alright," he whispered. Starch shifted the lollipop to his cheek and asked what he meant. "Your hands are so cool, feels so good… When I'm gone. Will you be alright?"

"Your skin is still hot from the burns. I won't have to worry about doing anything if you go, because you're not going anywhere. I know it makes no sense to you right now. Trust me on this; you're never going to leave me. They made a mistake when they made you, and another when they saved you. None of that was within your control. Saving me, taking Tala to safety, protecting the child, those things were choices you had control over. You chose right."

"It's not enough," the male squinted his eyes shut. "It's never enough, I owe so much. Every thought every action, I can't be good enough to earn forgiveness for the evil. I killed innocent people- I scare children for Merlin's sake!"

Starch wiped his hands on a rag, "So, you've made some bad choices too? So what?"

Dazedly the male looked up. "You don't understand Starch. It's all wrong. All of it." With one hand he began to scratch lightly at his chest, his fingernails trailing pink lines on his paler-than-could-be-healthy skin. "Just, wrong." The scratching became more intense and tiny pricks of blood welled up along angry colored scratches. "Wrong color, wrong shape, wrong size. Why is it all wrong?!"

The blood hit the air and Starch reacted instantly; grabbing the male's wrists while trying to keep from touching the just bandaged back. "Shhhhh, there." He cooed. "Don't do that, it's going to be alright."

"It's all wrong!" The male raked open his own skin spilling his own blood. "Let me out! It's so small in here Starch why can't I get out?!" He sounded hysterical to his own ears, but the cage was so small…

Starch had lost his patients and used the Vampiric strength to pull the male down to the floor and force his hands to still. "I know it's wrong, shhhhh." He forced the male's dark head down against his shoulder and continued to whisper nonsense in his ear while stroking the black hair with his free hand.

"It's because of what I am," the male whimpered. "**He** can't ever forgive me for being what I am—but this isn't me!" The soothing noises and gentle motions Starch was making calmed him some. "I should have killed them sooner, or found a way to not kill them at all, I owe too many blood debts, I've made people hate and fear, I deserve this."

"No." Sirus spoke up for the first time since things had gotten scary. Now, though, he knew what was going on. What his part was. "I thought so too," he fought to keep his voice steady. The idea was still painfully new to his own mind, "All of that is the way you learned to think after they, after they hurt you. I looked for a reason, but that was the problem. There was no reason behind it, they wanted to so they did it. It wasn't your fault. I couldn't have done anything to prevent it. What you do after they are done, that's what matters."

The male pulled in sharp tiny breathes; there wasn't enough room to take in more air. There wasn't enough room for his blood to circulate properly, and even if there were, it still tasted wrong, still smelled wrong.

Sirius got off the table and came as close as he dared to the tangled pair on the floor beside the chair. "I don't know what you did or what was gong on, but even of you killed these 'innocent people' in cold blood and enjoyed it, what you do now is more important than what you could have done then. Snape, he doesn't want to purge the guilt from his conscience and he sure doesn't want to atone, those are your goals. You're the one that wants forgiveness."

"They're dead. The dead never forgive." The male sounded defeated, he stopped struggling against Starch's hold and faced the emptiness Sirius' words made him aware of. "It really is pointless, isn't it? I'll never atone…I've lived in vain. I just want out of this cage."

Starch held the male tighter to him, 'No, you can't earn it. Forgiveness is a gift, freely given freely received." _'Please let him understand something! I can't watch him suffer much more…it hurts so much.' _

"**He's** waking up," the male whispered. 

"Ill take care of everything," Starch whispered back. "I'll get Black out and clean up the mess, I'll be here when you get out again."

"My eyes hurt," he was so tired, could hardly keep his eyes open. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been earlier, the light wasn't a problem, but he remembered how it had hurt.

"That's right, I got something for you." Starch chuckled. "Got them when I was in America, t'other day." Reluctantly he stopped stroking the male's hair and reached for his bag. When Black nudged it within his reach he flashed a grin of thanks. It was forced, but he couldn't take time to dredge up real appreciation. It had settled to the bottom of the bag, of course. Eventually his fingers closed around the soft band of stretchy material and he tugged it loose from the rest of the junk he usually carried. He held it up for the male to see; a loop of soft black material with two, black, disks.

"I can't repay you for all of this," the male sighed reaching for the goggles. "I can't repay you for any of what you've done for me."  He pulled the strap over the back of his head and adjusted the lenses over his eyes. Starch's arm then settled around his waist, the cool weight letting him know that the Exotic wasn't leaving now that his mission was accomplished. "Starch," he darted his head around trying to see everything at once. "Starch, where are the colors?! What happened to the colors?!"

"shhhh." 

The male tried to calm himself as the arm around his waist tightened for a moment. Exhaustion was pulling him under and the adrenalin shooting through his system wasn't helping any. 

"We'll talk about it later, **he's** going to wake up and we need to get you to bed. I'll wait and explain everything to **him** don't worry about it."

~

Starch closed the door and motioned for Black to precede him down the hall toward the side passage where their rooms were located. Snape hadn't woken while they were cleaning up but he had heard the Human heartbeat speed up to a rate that indicated consciousness. One hand in his pocket, the other holding the courier bag to his side, Starch tried not to think too much about how he would explain to Snape about his latest gift.

"So," Sirius broke the silence. "What was with the sunglasses?"

_'Leave it to the Human to avoid everything that really should be talked about,'_ he smirked in an oddly gentle way. Those sorts of characteristic behaviors were, after all, what made Humans so interesting. "They are called Shutters, and their most widely publicized feature is their extreme cost. Aside from that, they work a bit like sunglasses, but block all light from entering."

Sirius thought for a moment. "But, wouldn't that make it impossible for him to see? I mean, light has to get in for the eye to see. Is that what he meant about the colors?"

Starch smiled and it showed in his voice. "He said you were smart. Yes, Shutters would make you blind while you're wearing them, but they have a sort of charm on them that translates everything into outlines. I understand it looks a bit like the reverse image of a child's coloring scroll; black filled with silver outlines."

"Will you tell me why he lost it?"

Starch glanced over at the Human. Deep brown eyes stared back into his own for a moment. "Do you expect an answer?"

"Not really. Doesn't seem your style."

"Then, why ruin my reputation?" He smiled, showing his blunt teeth. The Human suddenly realized he had been staring down a Vampire and looked away. Before they parted to head to their separate doors, he spoke again, not teasing this time. "You were a help." Black paused with his door half open. "He heard you, and…well…thanks." 

Entering his own rooms before Black could come up with a pointless response, Starch set his bag back down by the door and went to make coffee for Lenore, she'd be waking up soon.  

_'I really am blessed,'_ he thought with wonder, catching sight of his wife while passing their bedchamber door. He knew guilt should have been eating him undead, but she knew. _'And she chose me anyway.'_ He smiled when she finally stirred, smelling the perking coffee. "Good evening luv. Java's near done." 


	48. Price Tag

Caution should be used when reading the following chapter. Contained within said chapter are ideas, thoughts, and creations both original to the author of said chapter as well as ideas, thoughts, and creations from the mind(s) of various other authors. I have not sought permission to use the elements that are not of my own invention; I also make no money from the use of said non-me originating material(s.)

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****This chapter is dedicated to Frogfoot. You wanted the chapter NOW! SO here it is. **You can all thank her for the cliffie ending :-D** ****

Chapter 48:

Standing at attention in a great semicircle the Chimera's silently faced four cloaked and masked men of unusually strong power; the four Fates. The Fates were arranged so that two stood on either side of the simple but imposing throne upon which sat the Dark Lord himself. When he was ready, Voldemort rose to his feet and stepped forward to address his followers.

"Throughout history, great men have been brought down by their desire for power." Crimson eyes glittering from under the hood of his cloak, Voldemort addressed the assembled Chimeras. "They persecuted, and sought to rule, others because of territorial boundaries, the color of skin, even a preference of religion. No man has the right to tell another what he is to think or feel."

The power of his voice, insidious yet ingenuous, and the simple fact that his words made sense, drove his message into the hearts of his followers. Every word he spoke carried a raw intensity, as though the ideas had been written on his very soul in letters of flame. He was seeking to share those flames of thought with the few who were fortunate enough to have been worthy of hearing. The sickle shaped line of Chimeras was immobile and soundless. They all realized the honour conveyed by this mass audience.

"No one, not Albus Dumbledore, not Rutger VonDrehl, nor Enrique Montoya, nor any other world leader has the right to force you to bend knee to those that threaten your families and your nations. The Americans went to war last year and removed a dictator from power because they had the **right** to defend themselves from an imminent threat."

Not a single head nodded visibly, but he could feel their agreement through the Mark that connected him to each of the minds that hung on his every word. Using that connection, he poured ardent fervor and righteous fury into the minds of the masked Wizards and Witches before him. 

"We face an imminent threat, one that we are being told to ignore, one more insidious than any single great man who has been consumed by his desire for power. The threat we face is to our way of life, it is a threat to our common heritage. The threat we face is extinction through the corruption of our very blood. The most basic inheritance any of us can pass to our children is being stolen from us by our elected leaders and their policies of so called inclusion."

Sparks were catching in the hearts of his followers; fires of indignation were springing to life. The Dark Mark, that every Wizard and Witch present carried with pride, transmitted their growing excitement to him. Voldemort kept his voice low, forcing every ear to strain to hear him, forcing every mind to focus at grasping each syllable he uttered.

"One of our number, who felt that his son deserved the heritage and community that he himself had grown up benefiting from, was cut down only a few weeks ago. Why was he willing to die? Because he believed that, no Muggle had the right to commit a slow and insidious genocide. Because he realized that, the ancient gift of Magic, passed to us from our Atlantian ancestors, was something worth preserving. He was willing to die because he remembered that our Magic was nearly robbed from us once before. Robbed from us by the few, who suddenly decided that they could sacrifice yet another Race to their appetite for power."

He nearly smiled. Several pairs of eyes jerked back to attention, they had been so caught up that many had looked to see who from their line was missing. Not from shock at the news, but from the realization that their leader knew who this soldier had been, knew that he had a son, and that logically he knew each of them as well. They were, each of them, **personally** important to the Dark Lord! 

He was aware that midnight would force his pet; the masked and silk enshrouded Fate to his right, to move. Voldemort concluded his speech. "Another has been chosen, not to take his place, but to continue his work." To signify the beginning of the ceremony he resumed his seat on the ancient throne. With a slow, imperious, motion of one hand, he bid a silent figure to step forward. 

Severa Moody was the newest member of the cell she had been assigned to. When Lucius died there were several in his four cells who were Miss Moody's senior, by decades, and the position of Chimera should have been one of theirs. But, Magic counted a great deal when it came to promotion, and if her wearing of a flowing silk cloak were more than a suicidal boast, then she was qualified in that respect.

As the ceremony began, the Chimeras raised their left fists into the air and bared the black brand in their forearms. Severa performed the same salute from her place two steps away from the Dark Lord. At another silent command, she dropped to her knees at his feet and held out to him her hands, palms together as though in supplication. 

Voldemort could feel the two struggling inside of the young woman. Each desperate for control, the one with the intent of escape, the other focused on continued survival. Voldemort knew how powerful the drive to live could be, how much it could make the impossible, possible. He knew she would not win, unless he could get her to see it as a matter of her own survival. The two needed to fight on level ground, for the Human to have a chance of victory. Before she began her vows of fealty and service, Voldemort removed her mask and looked into her eyes, the jet blackness of them reminded him of her near mirror image…Snape.

The slightest shushing of silk moving on silk gave him pause as Voldemort placed his hands on either side of those offered to him. The tiny motion from Snape was only the smallest echo of the battle for control going on silently within him. **It** had gained enough control to force Snape to sway, even a minute amount. If **It** broke free, no one would be able to move fast enough to prevent **It** from venting **Its** rage however **It** saw fit, which was a disturbing thought. Closing his hands on Severa's Voldemort felt the thing within her withdraw, and at **Its** withdrawal the conflict within Snape ended as well. The male seemed to have sensed the female's retreat, which also was a disturbing thought. 

"I, Severa, Kindred of the Clan of Moody, Ward of Alastor of the Clan of Moody, do hereby solemnly swear my everlasting loyalty to you my Lord Voldemort and my abiding friendship and goodwill towards the Brotherhood of the Order of the Eaters of Death. I shall be faithful and true unto you, my Lord, and offer for the benefit of my new sworn kindred the lands, monies, objects of value, and all knowledge or skill that I may possess. I will to my utmost power, with life and earthly goods seek to benefit the cause of preserving the purity and integrity of the race of Wizard kind."

He could feel the reaction of his followers to the hated name of Alastor Moody, _'They will most likely attempt some rash action against her, I pity any who are foolish enough to molest Severus' sister. He will be sure to protect her, rather enthusiastically I should imagine if his reaction to my merely touching her hands is any indication.'___

Severa continued to speak the words of the oath. "I acknowledge my brethren as being deserving of my respect and trust, and I hereby swear to ever aid and succour them as they shall aid and succour me in turn." 

He studied her hands, which he held with only a whisper of touch. He examined her skin, the color, the texture, even the temperature, comparing her against Severus. '_The only real differences between their hands,'_ he mused,_ 'are that Severus' are little larger and stronger. Such delicate hands, long artistic fingers, fine wrists.'_ __

Keeping her voice just loud enough to be heard by all present, Severa continued. "The friends of the Brotherhood of the Eaters of Death are my friends, and I shall ever aid them as they aid me. The enemies of the Brotherhood of the Eaters of Death are my enemies, and I shall ever spurn their company and seek their downfall. The allies of the Brotherhood of the Eaters of Death are my allies, and I shall ever work with them in mutual strength and trust."

He listened, not to her words, which he had heard countless times before, but to the timbre of her voice. He could distinguish only a more feminine edge to the rough velvet he was used to. _'I suppose Moody must have spent a great deal of time with her, for her to learn an English accent while at Durmstrang…'_

"I swear to abide by the rulings of yourself, my Dark Lord, as well as the rulings, orders, and judgments of any member of the order of The Fates in all things. Holding the orders of my own Fate Master above the others only in matters where they conflict both you and he."

She looked up through her long black lashes at him._ 'The same way Severus does. Such fascinating eyes…and like Severus her gaze conveys none of the shyness another's would while half meeting my eyes. Bold, yet respectful.'_

"I shall not, through action or inaction, do aught to harm or endanger or deprive you my Dark Lord, the Brotherhood of the Eaters of Death or our cause. Should I ever forswear this Oath in any way, I shall surrender myself to your rightful judgment and I shall gladly accept and submit to whatever punishment you deem fitting for my crime." 

Through the low hum of emotions and vague quasi formed ideas that Voldemort heard through the Dark Mark on Severa Moody's arm, came the distinct and clear image of a single solid thought. _'She does not fear me, not even if she were caught in betrayal does she feel that true harm would come to her?! But how could—' _The image had been too clear, too solid, the only way that a thought that sharp and focused could be transmitted to another mind would be if it were sent, on purpose. Following the thought trail through the Dark Mark, like a hound on a scent, he caught just the traces of **Its** presence. For an instant, **It** had surfaced, to challenge him, and then had retreated again. 

"This solemn Oath I hereby swear from this day and on until the day I shall draw my last breath. May I be granted the strength to venture any risk or sacrifice to uphold and protect it. Woe to they who try to tempt me to break this Oath, and woe to me if I should succumb to the temptation."

After the formality of medieval oaths of loyalty and life long service, Voldemort released her hands and drew his wand. Miss Moody offered her outstretched arm to him and he pressed the tip of his wand to the already present Dark Mark. The pain was intense but she did not cry out, as most Chimeras did. Instead of marring her flesh, the spell he spoke opened her Mark so that she could communicate with and monitor the members of her four cell groups. 

As a sign of fidelity and a seal to the pledge of service, he touched his lips to hers, not really a kiss, but more than a meaningless touch. The shock of violently suppressed rage that he felt coming in torrents through his link with Snape, was enough to cause him to sit back rather a bit quicker than normal.

The final step in the ceremony was assigning her to the direct control of one of the Fates. Voldemort motioned Snape forward with a slight lifting of one hand. There would be discussion on the rationality of placing the two strong-blooded Potions Masters together, but he would never be bothered with the rumors, no one would be foolish enough to question him.  

With eyes as hard and red as Garnets Voldemort watched as Snape removed his own mask. A pause in the man's usually decisive motions was the only outward sign of the internal war going on. **It** was fighting back with a strength that he had seen only once before. Long ago, when Snape had been a, newly advanced, Chimera. **It** had fought back and won, on the night of the first attack on Ruth Longbottom. That had also been the night Ruth Longbottom was galvanized into a steely threat to his organization. After giving birth almost a year later, she had immediately begun training as an Auror. For a few seconds he considered the value of the memory as a sort of premonition, but pushed the thought aside.

Voldemort decided that the image of Snape and his twin sister closing their exchanged pledges with mouth-to-mouth contact was…worth remembering.

@---'---,----------------

"He's feeding on raw meat and cow's blood," Starch hissed. "I'll take you myself if I have to, and that won't be pretty or gentle." Raking a hand through his hair, he made another pass by the window before glaring at the two Wizards sitting at the table in the middle of the room.

Alastor Moody's temper had shutdown as he moved into that detached objectiveness he had learned as an Auror. Calmly he pointed out, "They are capable of drawing nourishment from many sources, not just Human blood."

"If I knew as little as you seem to about this— **fiasco**, I wouldn't be here!" Starch resumed pacing around the room. Suddenly he laughed, "You really didn't know what the programme involved did you?! Just blindly went along with it, to save the world!" He had managed to pace his way around the room again, and started fidgeting, picking up things from the shelves and putting them back, exactly as he had found them. 

"What do you know?" Albus asked, using his most calming tone. 

Starch responded with a condescending tone that only an immortal can manage. "Bet it hurt, when you found out what was going on. Pretty little illusions shattering in the dark… Children, not animals, being made in tanks—did you see the tanks? Did you ever see the facility—I have, in phantom memories… Or was the first time you saw them after they had been conditioned, so that they would appear to be the animals you had been told they were? Why did you decide to save them?" The last was asked with a depth of heartache that pierced through Moody's psychological and emotional buffers.

The retired Auror gave a slight nod. He had not taken much time to consider things, but he was certain it was the right decision; the eccentric Exotic was on their side. "I had higher clearance but I wasn't allowed to see her until she had been fully conditioned. They worried about contamination of reflexive action response. I'm not as poetic as Albus, so I haven't got the right words to tell you what I thought or felt when I first saw her. They said she was one of the few designated for the next cycle of training, better than average results in most areas of testing and what they didn't want to call a temper. At Albus' request I was able to access more information on the boy, he was going to the next level in training also, and had a rebellious nature. My words, not theirs." 

Albus had closed his eyes during Alastor's recital of the facts from so long ago. When the silence stretched, he realized that he needed to say something as well. "When I looked into his eyes, I knew he was more than I had been told he was, I could tell he was not just a tool, he had an independent will. I was not allowed to see her, ever, but they, 'Allowed me see what I had contributed toward.' Propaganda I suppose, to keep me involved with the programme."

Starch was looking at a moon catcher, but his whole focus was on the scents and heartbeats of the men behind him. They were both wary of his intentions toward the Garoms, and themselves. If he so chose, all it would take would be one tele orb directed to the proper official and all of their effort to hide the Garoms would be undone. Only the fact that the Ministry couldn't prove they had taken the Garoms, had kept them from receiving the Dementor's Kiss for breaking national security. 

Coolly Starch offered some of the information he had acquired, pieced together, or unscrambled, over the years. "Yes, the Garoms will be able to survive just fine on cow swill, or meat, or even vegetables for that matter," he gave a slight shudder at the idea of eating leafy greens. "Their ability to survive on blood though, was held back so that they would be able to feed on it only **after** they completed the blood exchange like a Human would need before becoming a Fledgling. A safety precaution I think, since they will in essence actually become Fledglings at that point. I can't believe you lot did this!" Drawing his hands through his hair again he fought for control over his own temper. 

It occurred to him that if he had had normal hair, it would have resembled the classic Potter mess by now, but because it was more like fur, his spiked, dapple grey, locks just sprung back into place. 

"Of course," Alastor absently tapped the tabletop. "You do realize that Voldemort knows only what he was able to gain from the technician, and what the Snapes and the Garoms are aware of."

Starch's grey eyes flashed like quicksilver and utter astonishment was expressed with his entire body. "Of bloody course," he whispered hoarsely. "It's probably the only reason they're still alive." He now appeared to be attempting to smooth his hair down, it made no more difference then trying to muss it up had. Dazedly he spoke not realizing it was aloud. "What my enemies meant for evil, You have used for good…"

~

The ceremony having been completed Voldemort retired to his private chambers and waited several minutes before summoning his pet. After dismissing the, more or less unbalanced, but very loyal, Pettigrew, he placed his hand on the bowed head of the man kneeling at his feet. 

"Risse, Sseveruss. Remove your massk." He had been right; the black eyes before him were exhausted. "You have been fighting **It**, you are in need of ressst." Casually he motioned toward the large four-poster bed at the back of the room. "I believe **It** iss finding a way to interfere with your sssleep. Here I can watch over you and keep you sssafe, for a few hoursss."

Snape made a great effort and dragged his feet over the thick carpet, across the floor, to the bed. Mutely he stripped down to his black, silk, boxers.

Voldemort watched with silted eyes. The discarding of each item of clothing revealed more clearly the form beneath, which the layers were meant to conceal. The lean, young, body was not as emaciated as it had been. Apparently, the nausea had been only a stage, marking the degrading of the fusion. Unless, **It** had started eating, to supplement the food that Snape hadn't been able to hold down lately.

"My interessst in your sssisster iss sssolely motivated by my interesst in you," Voldemort murmured. The eyes that met his clouded over with a foreign aspect, but returned to normal a moment later. He had felt the struggle though; **It** had nearly gained control again. Only the fact that, though physically exhausted, Snape was psychologically stronger, had kept **It** caged. This time.

Hesitantly, Snape raised his eyes to Voldemort's again. "Thank you, for giving her…to my charge…" Even his voice was sluggish with lost sleep. 

"Lay down, now." Voldemort said, making a calming motion with one claw like hand. "You may thank me later, when you are resssted." 

He waited, half in curiosity half in anticipation. Sometimes, the Garom remained quite while Snape slept, other times **It** would lay still on his bed and blink **Its** achingly blue eyes at him. Rarely, **It** would move, shifting one pale and perfect limb, then another, slowly curling in tighter around **Itself**. **It** had not spoken to him since the night he had allowed the Chimeras to torture **It** for the attack that left Dumbledore's half-Giant dead and the Were Wolf badly injured.

Snape settled his head on one pillow and curled around a second, a habit that Voldemort found almost endearing, he relaxed under his master's gaze and succumbed to sleep.

At two minutes to midnight Voldemort froze, one hand a few bare centimeters from brushing the greasy black hair away from the closed eyes. One eye had slid open enough to glare blue light onto the pillows and sheets. In a delicate economy of movement, **It** bared one saliva wetted eyetooth in a silent snarl of warning.   


	49. Steps Toward What?

Hey I need to apologize up front for butchering the Irish accent. If anyone can put the words in a truly Irish accent I would be most appreciative. I have never heard a real Irish accent and am going off of what I remember from two years ago, back when we had TV and mom watched Ballykissangel on PBS. I am sorry to all Irish folk everywhere!

I have to say something vaguely disclaimer-ish so I don't get sued….I mean nothing of a copyright infringement sort of thing by using the brand names or trade marked/copyrighted materials that are mentioned within this chapter, or any of the previous chapters.

Ok the House Points go as follows:

**Gryffindor-260 Points-**; Frogfoot receives 10 points for the extra credit work of helping me edit the chapter; DnD4Ever receives 10 Points and the hope that she isn't too disappointed

**Slytherin-310 Points- **Chay receives 10 Points for listening to my blithering about the Oath that Severa took and how difficult it was to write; Mic receives 10 Points  and a pointy stick…to use in nudging Riv into finishing the next chap in her story

**Ravenclaw-20 Points- **Slaysia Enid Valrov (or The WindexWarriors) receives Ten Points for shameless flattery…or a clever plan to wring chapters from the heart of a happy authoress…

**Huffelpuff**- **10 Points** if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

No real warnings, some language of an uncouth manner, but nothing past a PG-13 rating.

And lastly! I have a website, there is a link on my Author page, it has character bios and lots of insider type info about my fic. Check it out if you want to know what the heck these people are all about. The site is going to be under constant, minor construction as I get new pics or decide to disclose more info. J

Chapter 29:

It was late Friday evening and most of the students in the halls were returning from studying in the library or fooling about on the lawns before curfew.

"Starch," the male was almost growling. "It was nothing, just drop it. It's dead, nothing valuable was broken, end of story."

They stood on a landing of a staircase being ignored by the few who were trying to pass. Both were angry but for very different reasons and at very different people. 

"I find it a bit difficult to take you seriously, when you eye is swelling shut," Starch snapped back. Anxiety building because of the tension he was receiving from the male. _'He's lying to me, or about to. What could be pushing him to…'_ He suddenly remembered one very nasty topic the male had always lied to him about. "You need money?"

"In an unbelievably un-Snape-like action the male tossed his head with an exaggerated rolling of his eyes, turned away, and continued quickstepping up the stairs.

_'Oh, no, my friend! We are not going back down this path again.' _Starch moved to follow him, when a voice from the bottom of the stairs called to the retreating figure. __

"**Severus**?" Albus had raised his voice and everyone on the stairs turned to gape at him. Everyone except the dark silhouette he was addressing. He peered through his half-moon glasses and inwardly winced at the slight tensing of thin shoulders and resigned droop of a greasy black head. 

Starch paused on the stairs, shifting his focus to obscure the Headmaster as well as the two of them. The Students quickly lost interest and began to mill about on their way to their respective Houses again.

Taking a short breath the male regained his composure almost instantly and rose onto the toes of one foot to spin on the step. On his toes still he jogged back down ignoring the idiot stares of the students around him.

It was a golden opportunity that he couldn't pass up. Starch dashed behind the Headmaster, with preternatural speed, and spoke softly in his ear. "He holds his hands up a little and his elbows in, runs on his toes, when he really pulls for speed his back flexes a little." He was forcing the Wizard to acknowledge physical traits that the he had probably never allowed himself to observe before. 

The male made the turn from the final landing to the stairs above them. He was unaware of Starch's machinations and really hadn't noticed that they were even talking. His whole focus was on calming himself enough to keep from awakening **him**.

Starch could feel the old Wizard's focus move to the male, and he continued making his point, this time on an historical level. "You have no idea how wrong this thing you created is. You have nothing to compare him to, you never saw a Garom from before The Great Purging. I did," He emphasized the words, pushing the significance of them  both as they applied to the Headmaster  and to himself. "Infinitely more than they could have ever dreamed…and so much less. And in exchange for his blind devotion, all he ever wanted was your love." In a barely audible whisper he made his final cut. "But for that he had to turn to a Vampire without a Clan, because you were too afraid." Starch had heard the Wizard's pulse react to his statements, even if the fool chose to pretend nothing of importance had been said.

The male stopped two steps above the Headmaster, who was looking a little paler and steadying himself with one hand on the newel post. "Master?" 

The Exotic caught the questioning note in the way the title was pronounced, and doubted that Dumbledore had heard it at all. When the male glanced at him, over Albus' shoulder, the blue eyes conveyed a warning to remain silent. _'He's protecting me? He must believe the Headmaster is upset to have me here…oh, little one, always the White Knight.'_

"Starch isn't a threat to the students, sir. I'm not talking about it again." 

Albus took another steadying breath and released his hold on the post. "No, I am not here to discuss your, friend. I was actually looking for Severa. Do you know where she is? I have been trying to speak with her for several days."

"She took detention tonight." The male's voice expressed none of what he felt. Instead he asked, "If you were so interested in seeing her you could have left a message with Benefit. When I am not here she usually is. You do remember the small Dragon like creature I keep, don't you?" 

As a Vampire Starch, technically, had no need to breathe, but his chest contracted in a silent and unnecessary gasp anyway. The pain through their link was intense and focused around a single thought. _'He feels like he is being replaced, by her… How can I fix this when Dumbledore refuses to even **try** telling a hawk from a handsaw?'_

"Yes, of course, Alastor mentioned that she had acquired one as well. I suppose I should leave a message with hers then."

Starch caught a sympathetic echo of it through their link, another stab of rejection into an already mangled psyche and he couldn't control his tongue. For the second time that night he snapped at the old man. "If there was a point, Headmaster, I suggest you find it soon. I am tiring of obscuring this conversation from the minds of the kiddies."

He noticed that the male interrupted before Albus could react to his comment. Protecting him again.

"Her Paramorph, Merit, is too young to be separated from her for long. He needs to feed often and still spends most of his time fused to her skin. If you want to reach her I suggest you leave a message with Benefit or wait a few weeks until Merit is stronger. Good evening Master." The male waited a three count before turning to jog up the stairs, again on his toes.

"Couldn't even bring yourself to notice he's been in a fight," Starch snarled under his breath to the Headmaster. "Coward." He spat the word and darted up the stairs, slowing when he came even with the male. 

"Thanks," the male said with a glance at the Exotic to his left. "For obscuring that, I…just, thanks."

"I was already obscuring our conversation." The male gave him another quick look, he shrugged in return. "You don't need all of them," his hand swept out to include everyone they had passed on their way up from the dungeons, "to hear and remember us fighting." With a weak grin he bumped against the male with his shoulder. "Now, tell me what happened in your office, or I'll black your other eye."

"I incurred another debt, if I'm right and it belonged to Lupin. If I'm wrong then I have enough money to make my expenses for the month." The male continued at a slightly faster than walking pace once they reached the top of the staircase.

"So, if you can't make expenses this month…what's your plan?" He knew the plan, they both knew it. Neither wanted to make it real by saying it aloud, but the male really had only one source for large amounts of quick Galleons. 

Starch easily kept up while looking around at the paintings that looked back at him. He shook his head, Wizarding tastes in art made no sense to him. They were passing a large and confused looking cow. "Who would want an interactive painting of a cow?" he whispered. The cow flicked its ear and dismissed Starch, finding a patch of clover more interesting. 

"An Exotic?! Who let it in here, and why is it unfettered?!" 

The shout brought Starch and the male to a halt before a, nearly life-size, painting of a medieval woman clad in white and gold. 

The kneeling Wizard knight, who had on several pieces of Adamantite plate armor, broke off pledging his undying devotion, stood and drew his sword. "Begone villian! Or I shall take exception to my vows of peace toward all, er, creatures." The awkward amendment was due to his catching sight of the male Garom beside the insolent Exotic.

Starch's temper was very short on two subjects, his best friend, and his own blood. Before he could respond though the male suddenly had a hand around the knight's throat. 

A strangled cry of "Merlin!" was all the knight could manage before fainting dead away. With another sudden motion the male released the unconscious figure and withdrew his hand from the painting. 

The noble Witch shakily dropped to her knees beside her protector, not taking her eyes off the ripples radiating out from the place where the male's hand had passed through their painting.

The male waited, his unwavering glare promising doom, until the ripples had settled. Then, pulling his lips back to flash his teeth, he made a false lunge at the maiden. Without a sound she fainted, collapsing onto the grass beside her suitor. 

The male continued down the hall.

An oddly inappropriate urge to laugh took hold of Starch. Carefully he reached out one hand to touch the canvas; it gave until he could feel the stones of the wall behind it. Starch jerked back from the painting and suppressed a giggle, _'He is getting stronger…' _ Quickly he dashed after the male. 

The male had made his way to another staircase; this one spiraled up through what seemed to be a tower.

"Where are you going, and how many more staircases are there until we get there?" Starch asked in mock annoyance. The painting could wait; the male wouldn't be able to tell him anything about it anyway. _'And because of the charms it would no doubt trigger, I can't tell him about the significance of it either.'_

"Hogwarts seems to be giving me time to calm down from all of, that. This is the tower where the Defence against Dark Arts is taught. I should have the position, but he insisted on hiring the Were Wolf. Again." The male glanced at Starch. "If you would rather, you are more than welcome to return to the dungeon."

Starch acknowledged the offer only by ignoring it. "What are you going to do if you can't meet expenses?"

Reaching the classroom door they entered and found Lupin still correcting essays at his desk. The windows were open and the cool wind played with the scrolls without paperweights, and Lupin's warm, grey-brown, hair.

Starch hung back near the door while the male swept in and spooked the professor into splattering ink on his desk top. _'He doesn't even do it on purpose most of the time.'_ He smiled slightly. Which nearly undid his resolve to not laugh over the painting incident, even if it was laughing with joy, the male still wouldn't understand. '_Gotta remember he doesn't even realize he needs to get better. He doesn't realize getting better is an option.'_

"Snape what is with yo—Oh," Remus looked up and realized his mistake in mid snap. "It's you. What do you want?"

The male stared hard into Lupin's eyes for a moment. "I want Tala to be happy, for now I will accept an answer as to whether or not you are missing a Red Cap." 

Remus' whole attitude changed at the use of the Were Coyote's name, he flushed a telling shade of red and sat up straighter while beginning to seriously fiddle with the edge of a random scroll. 

"What do you mean, you want Tala happy, I –uh wait, what about my Red Cap?" Lupin's poor mind was jumping from a Snape encounter, to realizing it was the male, to the woman he hoped to make his mate, to his newly arrived creature for the demonstration next week, and his poor mind was still back at trying to react to the male and not Snape.

"So it was your Red Cap?" The male tipped his head down a little so that he looked through the hair that fell in his face.

Starch felt the male gave a motionless wince at the thought of the potential deficit in his monthly allowance. _'He's in over his head. What will it take this time to get him to take my money?'_ __

"I uh, yes." Remus tried to pull himself together. "What about my Red Cap, how do you even know I got it? It was scheduled to be delivered over the weekend."

"How much did it cost?" 

"Two thousand seventeen Galleons, but I didn't buy it, it was a loan…Why?"

"I killed it."

Starch's eyes went wide. _'Well, that explains the blood…and his eye. Wonder who hid it in his office, and how long they'll survive.'_

Remus' mind went blank. "You killed it."

"I will replace it by Monday," the male stated. 

Watching the exchange between the Were and the Garom he had a sudden inspiration. _'So he'll be planning to go out tonight. If I can survive his wrath until we reach the dungeons…I can pull this off.'_

"You killed it?"

"Would you like an apology?" He sneered. 

Lupin jumped to his feet, "You killed it?!"

"Don't hyperventilate Lupin," the male snarled, head still down. "I'll get you a brand new creature for your little show and tell. I have a gig tonight and—" 

"You and Tala are invited, of course," Starch suddenly leapt in. Two pair of eyes blinked at him while he leaned against the doorframe. "Oh come on," he smiled and spread innocent hands. "It's Friday night and you are off for the weekend Lupin. Plus you and Tala have been secluded for too long, your friends want to see you sometimes too. Come on, we'll all have fun."

"All?" The male's voice was a little higher than normal. "Starch, what are you doing?"

He opened his mouth, it was more a threat than an actual attempt to reply. The male cut him off, just as he had hoped.

"No, I don't care what you are doing."

"What are you **planning** to do?" Starch refused to drop the question even as he allowed himself to be forcibly prodded down the stairs. He had learned to keep people off balance from the best, and in his distracted state of mind the male was playing the wrong side of his own game.

"A gig." The male had them down the stairs faster than it had taken to climb up. "We're playing at the BatCave and I need to get there on time, or Bish will replace me." With a smirk he ruefully added, "And I suddenly need the money."

He sharply pulled away from the male's hold on his arm. "He wouldn't realize it was time to start the show, let alone realize you were late, and no way will one gig make you that kind of yellow." 

"You're angry?" 

The male's confusion made it worse. "You just lied to me! What the hell do you want me to feel? Grateful that you're sparing me the mental image of you bitching for the money you owe Lupin?!"

The male shrugged and ducked his head as he swung from the airy main corridor, down into the clammy well of the dungeon stairs.

Starch followed him right into the Potions classroom. He gave the female a nod of greeting and waited for the male to finish intimidating Potter and Weasley. 

The teens stood to the side of the Potions Masters' desk and were awaiting the final verdict on their work. It had taken more than one detention, of their two weeks worth, to complete the copying of the manuscripts they had been given. 

The female looked up as Starch and the male entered. "It would appear that they have completed the assignment you set for them." She handed the scrolls to the male.

He glanced over then briefly. "Very well, Misters Potter and Weasley. You are dismissed for this night." The male immediately entered their office and closed the door.

Starch had to jump out of the way as the boys rushed out before 'Snape' could think up something new. He wandered closer to the large old desk at the front of the room. "Did you know about the Red Cap?" The female looked puzzled, but gave an affirmative shake to her head. He smiled in a reassuring way. "You don't have duties tonight, do you? He's going to perform tonight and I'm trying to get us all there to see him. I can take Black, but it would be easier if you took the rest of them."

"Sweet bleeding! You are not getting her involved in this too are you?!" The male jerked the office door open to glare at the Exotic.

Starch had had the presence of mind to beat it out of the Potions Classroom immediately after inviting the female. He could clearly hear the male's shout from the hidden corridor he was hurrying down, but he tried very hard not to react.

A sharp knock on a particular set of stones in the wall brought the hot brown eyes and sunny smile of Tala before his eyes. 

"Starch," she was happy to see him, but also knew he rarely socialized just for the fun of it. Some instincts were too hard to completely overcome, and he was mostly Vampire.

"Tala, lovely, we're going out tonight so dress down. He's got a concert or something going and I think we should all go." Starch waited impatiently. _'If she agrees, the other Were won't stay back. At that point all I need to do is figure out a way to get the Human to come.'_

"Where is this—Remus!" Tala stepped fully into the hall and reached out one hand to beckon the man closer. "Remus, do you know anything about going out tonight?" She smiled sweetly, as though it had been entirely his idea.

Making his exit before anyone could realize they had agree to something, Starch backed down the hall. With a smile he held his hands out, palms up. "He's performing in Soho, we're leaving in the half hour." 

Knocking on Black's door Starch could just make out Remus reminding Tala that they had heard the male perform at the Halloween Ball. _'If that's what they're expecting,'_ Starch laughed to himself. _'They are in for an interesting night.'_ He knocked again, this time he heard Sirius approaching the door.

"What do you wa—" Black jerked back.

"Obviously, not who you were expecting." Starch couldn't help showing his teeth a little as he smiled. "No matter, we're all going to Soho, I was given the task of getting you there and we're leaving in twenty minutes."

"I don't want to go." Sirius tried to close the door, Starch put his hand out to stop it. Sirius crossed his arms over his chest. "Why should I?"

Starch straightened his shoulders. _'He chose his Mark well. This one's wounds go deeper than I thought. There probably won't be any disparity in their healing.'_ Starch lost all of his playful air of a moment before. It somehow seemed more proper to deal with Black as he would the male. "Two reasons, because you're going crazy shut up in here, and all your little friends are coming. Be ready or I'll choose what you wear." He removed his hand from the door and headed for his own rooms. Last of all, he needed to tell Lenore about the evening's happenings.

He entered his own sitting room as though it were seeded with landmines. "Lenore, hon? Have you had your coffee yet? I made another decision without discussing it first…"

~

In a port-booth at the end of a litter strewn street in Muggle London, Sirius Black waited for the world to stop spinning so fast. Sirius had dressed in a casual black jacket and slacks with a dark brown turtleneck that matched the shade of his eyes. Compared to the costumes of the others, his outfit was bland enough to be a protest.

"You going to be ok?" Starch ventured. Black hadn't been especially happy with him, but then neither was the male right now. _'At least Lenore isn't angry.'_ He shrugged to himself. _'One out of three isn't too bad.'_

The female led her motley looking crew down the sidewalk to the port-booth where Starch had asked her to meet him. As they approached, Starch cast a critical eye over them.

Lenore wore a simple black sheathe dress, but over it flowed a voluminous second layer, made up of torn fishnet material.

The two Weres walked hand in hand. Tala had apparently been to Soho before, there was really only one club in Soho that was worth the visiting, and she had dressed appropriately. She wore a tight, long sleeved, fishnet shirt under a short, tight black shirt and baggy black pants with odd straps and buckles that swung and flashed as she moved. While Lupin was wearing a similarly loose pair of hardware accented, black pants with a simple black tee shirt which read ~~~why bother?~~~. 

The female halted before Starch, awaiting a signal from him. She had on her usual low cut, tight-as-body-paint, black jeans and abdomen flashing black shirt, with a dark green duster jacket, and the boots collar and fingerless gloves from her Garom uniform. Her outfit had been influenced by her only source of information as to what would be appropriate, the male.

With a nod at the disgruntled man, Starch passed responsibility for Black to the female. He took Lenore's arm, and led them all down a side street toward the source of a nearly tactilely thumping bass.

@---'---,-----------------

The male cast another worried look at the act currently performing on the stage, and continued to weave his way through the crowd toward the last place he had spotted his lead guitarist.

"Bish," he called. The dark haired young man was heavily distracted by a woman in leather and silk, and didn't hear him. "**Bish**." The male's voice was carrying through the noise of the crowd and the band, but he was still being ignored.

The male placed both hands on the small, round table in front of the oblivious man, and leaned forward. "**Bishi!**" 

The band's lead singer, and lead guitarist, nearly fell out of his chair. "Oi! Side Strike! What ya yellin' about?" 

The male looked down for a moment to keep from ripping into someone. With forced calm, he grit the words between his teeth, "Who the frig is responsible for scheduling us as the closing act for a Sidhe?"

"What?" A sharp jerk of his dark head and Bish was faced with the midsection of the woman who had been his focus a moment ago. "Hey move." He ignored her offended glare and took in the blonde singer crooning away on stage. "Oh, shite. Not him." 

"I'll assume this means it wasn't you. Where's Gaff?" The male stood back up and pushed his hands into the pockets of his midnight green duster, pulling the jacket close around himself. '_Too many people and too many levels of threat, with no target to focus on…'_

"But we're not his closing act," Bish sounded as though he were trying to draw hope from the fact.

"As wonderful as your voice is," the male leaned in slightly. "You are a poor closing act for the King of the UnderGround. No one can follow a Sidhe, especially not him. We got--" 

"Hallo, Side Strike, ye made it!" Gaff bounded up to the table with his particular brand of enthusiasm. "Haven'a seen much o' ye since tha 'alloween fete. 'id 't go down a'roit wi' tha Headmaster?"

The male sharply stepped back from the excited Irishman, _'Too much risk of physical contact!_' "Gaff, you do realize we're after a Sidhe…know anything about it?"

"Nah man, Oi swar it!" He held his hands up defensively. "Oi were in contac' wi' tha guy wha' did tha bookin' but he ne'er sai' any thin' abou' 'ny Sidhe."

He was about to accept the plea of innocence, when Gaff's scent took on a shade of guilt and fear. "Gaff," he gave the troubled eyes of the bass guitarist his full attention. "Anything to add?"

"Weell," he winced. "It moit explain why we're getting' paid sa much fer tha show…"

"How much?" Gaff rattled off a figure in Pounds, which he mentally converted to Galleons. "Any one have any debts?" He was trying to quickly calculate how much of the extra money he could put toward the unexpected expense of a captive Red Cap.

Gaff looked away, "Oi've gota bit o' som' thin' but it is'na important."

The male couldn't help but remember the last time he had needed to pay off some of Gaff's debtors. '_That may have been before The Gap,'_ the male thought despairingly._ 'But addictions are addictions for a reason.'_ "You clean?" He managed to ask the question without sounding like he was accusing the man of anything.

"Ten yars," Gaff met his eyes with such a sudden fire, that he knew there was more to it. "Oi realized I di'na want ye ta come back, an' find me loike tha'. Me debts can wait, if ye need the money."

The male nodded once. He turned and led the way to the greenroom back stage where they would get their costumes on and go over the evenings play list. Bish touched Gaff's shoulder in a gesture of support as they followed him closely.

Several minutes later they had their song list set and the techs knew what to expect.

"Jareth," the male nodded to the singer of the band that had just finished their set. 

The spiked blond mane and poet shirt of the Sidhe moved to a breeze that none present could feel. He smiled a perfect smile, revealing just the edges of his pointed teeth. "Side Strike. Nice eye."

The male ignored the comment on his bruise and pulled on his shutters. "Lets go." 

Bish and Gaff stopped readjusting the mock Garom harnesses they had pulled on and followed him toward the stage door. Gaff took a last look in the mirror to check his makeup. Like the rest of the band he had black lips, eyeliner, and nails, and like usual he was the last one to get out.

The BatCave still offered Magic free music, only, and they pulled on their headsets and Bish and Gaff plugged in their instruments. The male did a mike check for the internal link he had with Bish and Gaff, then switched to the frequency that would enable him to keep in control of the people at the sound boards and the effects techs.

To the public, Bish was the leader of the band, in reality the male ran everything from their practices to when the fog was started for their performance.

With the lights down they took their relaxed/sleepwalking stances and waited for the music to animate them again.

~

Starch led them through the crowd, and found a booth where they could listen to the music, and be visible enough for the male to find them when he went on break. He made sure that Black was seated closest to the wall. 

When the male finally approached Starch nudged Tala and Remus from their bench and the male slid in, across from Black. The Weres weren't put out in the least and took the opportunity to wander into the deeper shadows at the edges of the room.

"You look more like a freak than normal," Black was still pissed.

The male raised one brow and pulled his shutters down to hang around his neck. "Black, did you happen to see the sign at the door?" He waited for Sirius to give some sort of response. 

"Yes. I couldn't have missed it actually, with the Vampire making me read it out loud and all." He shot a death glare at Starch, who smiled back.

"This place is not exactly a safe place to be so insolent. You will treat me with more respect or someone will decide that you are trying to prove something to me, and either I punish you…or they get the impression that you are fair game."

"Look just because I got all freaked and cried on your shoulder like a baby, doesn't mean—" 

"You will not speak again unless it is to one of our party, or to order a drink. No, tell you what, Starch is ordering your drinks." The male got up and headed to the back stage door.

"Wait," Starch called. He jumped up and hurried to the male's side. "I need to talk to you after the show. Before you do anything else. Ok?"

"Starch…"

"You were attacked by a Red Cap, in your office. They like heights, it wasn't an accident." He knew the male already understood the point he was making. But the idea of what a Red Cap could have done was catching up to him and he was reacting retroactively.

"Starch, so someone put it in my office as an ambush." The male shrugged. "These things happen everywhere." 

"No these things do not happen everywhere!" Starch tried to lower his voice to keep from attracting attention. In an urgent whisper he growled, "These things don't happen in…Upland, Indiana. And that's where I'll take you if I have to. Believe me, you've never seen so much corn." _'Did I just threaten him with corn?'_

The male stared for a moment. "You would take me to America…to protect me. And you'd **take** me there, does that mean you'd stay with me?" he asked softly. Then ducked his head turned and made his way toward the back stage door. He was quickly lost from sight in the crowd.

Starch watched him go. _'I would.'_ He caught an unnecessary breath at the thought. _ 'I really would go with him. I wonder how I could explain Upland, to Lenore…'_ He returned to Black.

The female had been watching over the Human, but she quickly moved to the balcony that ringed the dance floor. 

Starch forced a smile. "Want a drink?" he offered sweetly. 

A few minutes later the music brought people back out to dance in singles or small, loosely defined, groups.

~_Buried in my eyes-_

_Are echoes of the lies-_

_Told to a child,_

_Daddy really loves you—Mommy didn't mean it_

_If you were good you wouldn't be hit _

_Children are to blame _

_They create their own pain~_

"What is up with them?! Lyrics like that are probably why most of these people are so depressed all the time!" Sirius broke off his tirade to stare at a passing woman with five spikes pierced into her bottom lip.

Starch sipped at his drink before addressing the Human. The thinned down Tiger's blood calmed him enough to bring his fangs back in. "Black, there's a reason why he told you to keep your mouth shut. You're going to get him into a fight if you keep making him look like a fool."

"He's already been in a fight," Sirius pointed out smugly.

Setting his drink down Starch sighed. "He was attacked by a Red Cap earlier this evening. Someone hid it in his office, probably in the hopes that it would be enough of a surprise that he would not have time to defend himself. It's dead, but it got off a few good hits first."

"We haven't got Red Caps just running around the school."

"It was supposed to be part of a demonstration for one of Lupin's classes." Starch explained.

"Why are we really here?"

"Because I need to keep an eye on him, I know he won't leave you unguarded in a place like this…and it makes a good meeting place for a business transaction I need to make." Starch waited to see if the Human would accept his answers, they were honest, but the man was really upset. Furious. And more than a little defensive.

"I'll take a Sprite," Sirius mumbled.

Lenore had been watching silently. She slid one hand into Starch's and, at the pressing of her skin against his, she was able to open a telepathic link between them. **_'Let me talk to him,'_** she offered. **_'I can calm him down a little, and maybe get him to see that your friend is concerned for his safety and not trying to treat him like a House Elf. But you know of course, this bad attitude is just a defensive action to protect himself from all that he is facing about his own attack while in prison. He and your friend shared things they would never tell anyone, he is frightened by that intimacy. They both are.'_**

Starch squeezed her hand and sent a thought of relief and thanks to her. He got up saying he was going to get the soda and left the two to talk. _'I just hope and pray she's able to get him to lay off the passive aggressive attitude for a few hours. Or I won't need to carry out the rest of the plan, we'll get thrown out on our arses if he kills someone over Black.'_


	50. Boundaries

I do not own anything that was made up, invented, or created by someone else

**Gryffindor-280 Points-** Frogfoot receives 10 points and high marks for extra credit work; DnD4Ever receives 10 Points for being the teacher's pet ;)

**Slytherin-320 Points- **Chay receives 10 Points for helping me brainstorm on that Upland, Indiana line;

**Ravenclaw-40 Points- **The WindexWarriors receive Ten Points for encouraging the speard of vege-phobia.  I'm not sure how to handle points for a writing –team– so if this is an independent study, or you're working as 'lab partners' I'll award the points accordingly, just tell me, ok?

**Huffelpuff**- **10 Points-** if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 50:

The male watched as Bish counted out their money, thankful that the BatCave paid immediately, instead of just cutting a cheque. _'Now all I need to do is get four hours tonight and I'll be set.'_

Bish thumbed through the colorful notes and separated them into three stacks, he handed the larger to the male. "Hope it's enough, Side Strike," he joked. "Cause I need my cut for rent."

"Ye lost thet poof job o' yers over ta tha department store counter did ye then?" Gaff ribbed.

The male slipped out without being seen. They wouldn't worry; he'd always left that way. Back in the Den again, he was enveloped in the dim light and wildly diverse crowd. Pulling his shutters down to hang around his neck, he took in the colors and depth that he had needed to give up in order to play under the focused lights of the stage.

Immediately, several Vampires came under his observation. They looked like they would be easy, but a promise made to Starch needed to be kept. The Exotic deserved that much.

He took a slow breath and split his focus. The Vampires were pointedly not interacting over by the curved stairs to the balcony. A few dominantly Vampire Exotics had congregated by the bar, and a few were on the dance floor. The female was standing over by one of the pillars that supported the balcony. There were two Hags at a table to her aft left and a Full Were at her far right, directly to her right a Nymph-and-Furry hybrid carried a tray of drinks to the waiting table of—_'What am I doing?!' _ He shook his head and made his way to the booth where he had left Starch, and Black.

Starch and Lenore were talking with Black, and seemed to have found a way to explain to him that he needed to use a low voice when he spoke.

The male gave a slight nod to Black, acknowledging his presence, before turning to Starch. "You said you wanted to see me before I got to the other things I need to see about." Starch smiled. He curled his fingers in a sort of 'come here' gesture. _'What is it? If he wanted to talk in private he would have left the booth…'_ Curious, the male leaned in.

There was a tiny click, and a foreign weight was added to his collar. "What?" Starch held up the end of a fine silvery chain. With his eyes the male followed the chain to its end. "You put me on a leash?!" He hadn't been able to keep his voice down and a pair of passing Vampire wanna-bes glanced over and offered envious smirks.

Black began laughing, hysterically. The male glared at him, then Starch, back and forth for a while. "I can't decide which of you needs dealing with first," he finally hissed.

Starch tucked his hands into the pockets of his charcoal grey lab coat. The end of the leash was around one of his wrists. "Just relax and enjoy the atmosphere."

"Oh, Rip! You and she came as twins!" Tala squealed as she and Lupin approached the booth.

"She?" The male raised one eye brow.

Tala awkwardly waved one hand in the air as she tried to explain. "Uh, she, the uh the she like you… uh, I don't know a name for her." She looked to Remus for help.

Lupin shrugged, "The wrong one's wearing the makeup." He and Black started laughing at his comment, but Lenore perked.

The male relaxed, so much so, that it caught Starch's eye. "Oh," the male sighed. "You mean Sev. Yeah, hiding these clothes is hard enough. A larger wardrobe would get found."

Lenore grabbed Tala's arm before the She-Were could take the seat Lupin had pulled over for her. "Come on." She smiled too brightly and called back to the men, "Uh, girl time!" And she drug Tala off, whispering in her ear.

"Now," the male grumbled, "I think we're all in trouble."

"Why?" Lupin asked, uneasily.

The male shifted on the bench, he felt the leash pull a little and tried to fight the urge to yank on it. "I have found, that whenever people are making an effort to exclude me, I am in for a very bad time. And they are excluding all of us."

Starch caught his friend's attention with a frantic wave. "Sev?"

"You've had your allotted point for the night," the male grumbled. He snatched a piece of, suspiciously red, ice from Starch's glass and carefully kept it from touching his blackened lips as he popped it into his mouth.

The Exotic raised his hands and, by default, the end of the leash. "Ok, I'll stop at one."

-'--,------

Lenore, Tala, and the female found a fairly secluded corner at the farthest end of the counter in the women's loo.

Under the carefully arranged lights, set up to illuminate only those in front of the mirrors, Lenore turned to the female. "Your makeup, it's Muggle isn't it?" She asked.

The female was still eyeing her skeptically. She hadn't heard the plan yet, but the two women were excited enough to make her nervous. "Yes, it's Muggle."

Tala jumped in, "Could you summon it here?"

The female gave a careful nod. "Yes, would you like me to then? Or do you have another reason for asking?"

Lenore laughed, "Yes, please. I'm sorry, I'm no good at secrets, or pranks. I didn't mean to keep it from you as well." She went on to explain her idea.

Raising a closed, and half-gloved, fist the female gave Lenore a small smile. She carefully opened her fist above the counter, and an array of black makeup fell out.

Lenore immediately grabbed the quick drying nail polish while Tala boosted herself up to sit on the counter. Leaning closer to the mirror she started applying the eyeliner.

"Lenore," Tala spoke carefully, so as to keep from poking out her own eye. "Why are you doing this, not that I think it's a bad idea, but I know Remus won't complain…I just can't see Starch being thrilled though."

"Oh, he won't be." Lenore blew at the nails of her left hand. "But I owe him at least this shock for surprising me with this place, on our anniversary."

Several long minutes later the women returned to an empty table. The female leaned in to the booth and inhaled the lingering scents. "I highly recommend we leave him and Black alone." She stated. "But Lupin and Starch will be easy to find."

-'--,------

The two women disappeared into the throng.

Black looked down into his drink. "I- I'm sorry, about—"

"Shut up Black," the male snapped. "You didn't care when we we're in school and you don't care now. All you ever cared about was your own amusement, and running from your own fears. I'm sick of being surrounded by people remaking the world to suit their preferences."

"No I didn't care then," Black snapped back. "But I'm trying to stop reacting out of what I used to be, and start new."

His eyes glimmered with a dim blue light. "You've been talking with Lenore," the male accused.

"Forget it." Black grumbled. A few tense moments ticked by before he tried again. "Ya. I talked to Lenore," he admitted. Turning his glass and watching the oddly shaped ice pieces bump into each other. "She said I probably harassed you, sometimes, when I thought it—you were Snape. Did I?"

The male took several slow breathes as memories of being teased and publicly humiliated, beaten up or having assignments destroyed the day they were due, and countless silly stupid things that adults are supposed to have outgrown, flickered at the edges of his mind. _'Control it. If **he** wakes up here, I'm out of options.' _"I'm not talking to you about childhood angst. And stop making stupid distinctions that mean nothing. Black you were against me as soon as I was sorted, because of my House you felt justified in doing anything you wanted. And you claim Slytherins are the arrogant ones." He winced inwardly. That last comment shouldn't have been said. It would only get Black onto a different aspect of the same topic.

The male nearly sagged with relief when Starch stepped in. "Hey, Lupin. You interested in seeing the balcony level?" The Were quickly agreed and the male Garom had to stand up from the booth to let Starch out. Before he left, Starch  turned to Sirius and held out the loop of shiny metal at the end of the leash. "Black, you keep with him. Don't let him palm you off to the female."

Confused, but sensing that there was a gravity motivating the request, Sirius took the loop, but held it awkwardly.

_'Great,'_ the male sighed. _'He gets me out of having to put up with Black's response, and leaves me with him.'_ "What are you drinking?" He tried. It would be a safe enough topic, the male assumed.

Lost in thought, Black absently fingered the smooth metal of the leash. "You're too comfortable with this," he held it up.

The male shrugged. "You killed most of whatever it is within me that can feel humiliated. I feel a level of stress over it, but I'm dealing with it. Lets walk," he offered. He could smell the indecision in Black, but the man reluctantly stood and they abandoned the booth.

Quietly the male Garom led, even though Black still held the end of the leash.

"Did I, ever hurt you?" Black asked the question as though the idea gave him pain. "I mean, I never even had a clue you were there…"

The male groped for an answer that would lead to a new, safer, topic. "You broke my nose. I guess I was too young, it never healed right." His left hand came up and the first two fingers ran over the crooked bend in the bridge of his nose, "It's not that it hurt more than the other stuff, it's just that I'm scarred by it." He added, in a detached undertone, "Scars are to be avoided, they make you distinct."

They halted before a large clear tube that ran through the floor and up to the balcony. It was filled with water and had been charmed to remove the distortion that curved glass is supposed to have. In the water filled cylinder a Mer lazily swam past on her way to the tank on the upper level.

"I remember his eyes," Sirius did not look at the male as he spoke. "His eyes were black, when I hit him that time. But it was your nose that was broken."

"Black, give me the leash." The male could make no sense of the ramblings. "It's just a symbol anyway."

"I don't understand." Deep in thought, Sirius absently played with the handle of the leash without looking at it. "The Plasti-juice shouldn't work that way…"

The male kept his voice low. "Black, that leash could not hold me. If I chose to leave, I could. Starch…wants me to stay, so I will. Give me the leash."

With a slightly uncomfortable expression, Sirius wavered. "He gave me the leash for a reason… No," he corrected himself. "He put it on you for a reason. What was he telling you?"

"Give me the leash." The male couldn't find the energy to argue more than he had been all night. His shoulders dropped a little and he looked down toward an invisible spot on the floor. "It's an escalation of our argument. This," he half heartedly indicated the steal colored line that connected them, "is how serious he is about it. The next level of escalation would be something I am not willing to endure."

"How do I know you're not just using me?"

The question was too obvious. It was a plea for reassurance of safety. He couldn't offer what Black wanted, it would be counter productive for them both, but he could offer the truth.  "Black, I can promise I **will** use you. But I can also promise I will **never** abuse you. That is the best I can offer for reassurance, and still tell you the truth." The male let his statement hang in the air.

Staring at the shiny, silvery, metal a moment longer, Sirius handed the fine chain over without further comment. Releasing his consuming need of absolute certainty in the same action.

The male passed his right hand through the loop and stuck both hands in his jacket pockets. He felt almost obligated to acknowledge Black's sacrifice with one of his own. "I don't want to see you." He watched the Mers going past on their way to the various tubes and tanks set up for their convenience. "Seeing you, interacting with you, forces me to remember those things that I would rather not have to think about. I'm avoiding you because you are a reminder I cannot ignore. It's also why I am trying so hard to drive you away. I expect that Lenore said something like that to you about me, or yourself, or both of us."

"She also said that she was surprised you had made the effort to take me as your Mark, impressed that you were still fighting the darkness." Sirius glanced over, then returned his attention to the cylinder. "She also said that you are giving up."

The male shrugged in response, the shiny chain swayed with his slight movement. Trying to balance everything was getting awkward, he could feel himself releasing control of certain things as the attention was needed elsewhere. "You and I…you were nineteen, I was eight. That is an irreconcilable gulf. You were testing your new, mature, self. I was laying the foundations for mine. Your scars were carved into the mind of a young man, mine into a child."

Black turned to look at him again, a Goblin, passing a nearby table, dropped his drink when a Full Were Fox's tail was jerked out from under his foot. Someone changed the direction they were walking, so they could see what was going to happen next, Black glanced down but still faced him. A few Vampires had entered, rather old ones to judge by their Manna Signatures. The female was in a crowd, he could only feel her; she was too far into the fog enshrouded dance floor to be seen. She had been with Lenore and Tala, but she had come down from the balcony alone.

Black spoke softly. Partly asking himself, but asking the male too. "If you could go back, and change it all, erase it so it never happened… Would you?"

He answered having, consciously, caught only the intent behind the question. "I have felt a moonbow arcing out from a Brazilian waterfall. I have smelled the sighing of long grasses on the plains of Kenya. I have tasted soft Tasmanian rain falling on my closed eyelids…would I erase the hot summer days when I screamed silently until my mind was raw, because there was no one there to care if I had bothered to make a sound. Erase all the years I spent beating myself with hate and hope, because I wanted to take the place of a dead boy, in my Master's heart… Would I give it all up? That is a question that should never be asked of madmen." With a tiny, bitter, twist of one corner of his mouth, he added, "Or, their delusions."

A Velvet turned away, she had been eyeing Black, but as he swayed, slightly, with the music, the bead in his hair caught a glimmer of light. She wasn't interested in dealing with a Mark. Or, more precisely, she did not wish to bother with a Mark Keeper.

Black was trying, for a moment, to let the answer pass by. He fought down that urge and forced himself to look at it honestly.

The male felt his struggle and the resolution, there was a modicum of reassurance in the fact that he was not the only one having trouble facing himself. Which is probably what made him think of Black again, think deeper, deeper than he knew the man would be comfortable with, _'But, then he isn't supposed to be comfortable. Neither of us are.'_ "Want to get a drink? I need to do something or I'll just zone out on the crowd."

---'---,--------------------------

Starch led, a more than willing, Lupin up the curving staircase, to the balcony, also known as The Ledge. '_Being in the middle of such an emotion charged argument had been making the Were too nervous.'_ Starch thought._ 'He would have said something, in defence of his friend, and the male would have reacted for them both. It would have undone everything Lenore had tried to tell Black.'_

The railing, from which you could overlook The Den, was being leaned upon, or over, by several people, and ignored by many others. There were no booths on the upper level, only small tables with one or two seats. None of the chairs matched each other or their tables; it was a common theme throughout the BatCave. At the center of each small round table was a clear bowl of blackflame burning with a deep purple light that colored everything familiar with odd shades.

Starch glanced at the Were Wolf following closely behind him and saw the words on his shirt blazing like white lightning. why bother? Lupin's skin was a deep purple-black, thanks to the blackflames. His own flesh, usually ashen grey with a faint trace of the pink it used to hold, now had a ghostly silver-pearl shimmer.

Choosing a table near the rail, that had no indications of being claimed for the evening, Starch pulled the closest of the chairs out, then sat in the other. Lupin took the hint and sat across from him, facing the rail. They sat in silence for several minutes while Lupin took in the view.

From The Ledge, side rooms and alcoves, that were concealed from those actually in The Den, were visible. All that could be seen of the maze of other rooms were the dark open doorways. Starch pointed out a few of the rooms, The Green Room which wasn't green, The Pit actually a small series of interconnected chambers, The Air Line which was essentially a giant tank for the Mers and anyone interested in getting wet…

"Why couldn't he just accept Sirius' apology? Why does he always have to react so…" Lupin's warm amber colored eyes were a fiery orange in the light of the blackflame on their table.

Raising one hand in a casual gesture, Starch waved over a young man carrying a tray of empty glasses. He ordered another glass of chilled blood, Human plasma without platelets this time. With a look, he offered Lupin the chance to place an order, the Were requested a scotch on the rocks.

"He doesn't understand a great deal that you take for granted," Starch began. "And yet, he understands so much more. Black may have been apologizing, but you must admit, it was motivated out of his own guilt, not out of any wish to atone for the pain he had inflicted." He was surprised when the Were remained thoughtfully silent.

"I want to defend Sirius," Lupin said after a while. "But you're right. He spent half his life in that damn prison. He's trying to pretend like he's the same as he used to be, but…I haven't seen it, but it had to affect him—right?"

"They were both in prisons for about twelve years. Both locked behind bars, Black's were vertical, his were horizontal , but the idea is the same." _'Just how much do I say? How much will it take, to make him ask the right questions? I'm just not as good at this as he is…'_

"When you handed that leash to Sirius, you wanted him to keep it for a reason, didn't you?"

Starch jerked out of his own thoughts and tried to remember if anything had been said to instigate the change in topic. He came up with nothing and returned with a question instead of an answer.

"Why, do you ask?" The Were pointed toward the railing behind him, so Starch turned in his seat and tried to find what had prompted the odd segue.

"By the Mer-tube over near the other stairs," Lupin indicated the direction again.

This time Starch caught sight of the male and Black. They were in a deep conversation, '_Of an emotional nature, if the way he is trying to distance himself is any indication.' _ Then the odd gleam of shiny metal caught his eye. Black had given up control of the leash.

Their drinks came, and with some minimal interaction with the person carrying the tray and then the obvious tasting of their drinks being required, Starch took his time before replying to Lupin's earlier question about the leash.

"Yes I did have a reason in giving the leash to Black. I gave it to him as a physical object that could be used to represent his control over the situation. By giving it over to, the male, he has also given up his own uhm, safety net." Starch sipped at his glass of thin yellowy fluid. He hated using terms like 'the male' but Lupin needed the identifier. "The rest of the meaning of the leash is a private conversation between us." He looked away. It was also not a topic he intended to discus.

"Lupin…" Carefully he broached a new subject, one that had no bearing on certain other -touchy subjects.- "I have tried to keep from being overly concerned with the politics of your world. The politics of the Dark Side are hard enough to keep up with. But there is something that concerns me, on your behalf by the indirect connection of Tala."

He waited for a response; Lupin merely came to attention at the mention of the She-Were's name.

"There is a Wizengamot vote coming up, something to do with the mandatory registration of Half Weres. They will vote on the use of registration tags, and licenses. And probably an annual fee to keep everything current," he added with carefully constructed flippancy. "You are about to experience persecution like you have never dreamed. I've seen this…fanaticism, come and go. But I have never been subject to it."

"Why?"

"Simple, I have no rights to infringe upon, no rights to take away. I have no medical practice. I have a well known name, a solid reputation, and a lot of stolen equipment."

"And you're telling me this because?"

This time Starch motioned toward something behind Lupin. He couldn't see her, yet, but he could feel Lenore approaching. It was an assumption, but a safe one, that she was coming because the female had followed their scents, and that Tala would also be with them.

He coolly took a sip as Lupin checked over his shoulder. _'Probably smells her already,"_ Starch mused. The dim light was no problem for his dark-adapted eyes, but he refused to accept what he had seen for that brief moment when the population of the balcony had randomly parted enough to allow him a glimpse of Lenore.

When they were close enough, Tala darted around the female and flung herself onto Lupin's lap.

Starch ignored them and blinked up at his wife.

"Lenore?!" He would have tried to keep at least a cool façade, except that it would have failed anyway. "You. Lips. Black? Why?!" Tala and Lupin had the indecency to break off their cuddling to laugh at his awkward moment.

"But Starch," Lenore put on her best pouty face and dropped her head to look at him through her lashes. "You were fine with this horrid black dress…"

"See, there's a deference there," he said, making a quick dive for the shreds of his usual composure. "Little black dresses are not the same as black paint on faces." It was most likely due to his being raised and surviving the historic periods when makeup was either not worn, white face powder, or red based rouges and lip colorings. But, whatever the reason, black, and any other non-red makeup, still bothered him.

Lenore leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his pale lips with her own ebony colored ones. "Do you really mind, all that much?" She teased.

"Ask me again?" In reality he wouldn't have objected to any color at this point.

Giving it careful, and unnecessary thought before leaning in for another kiss, elicited more giggles from Tala. When Lenore did, again, place her lips on her husband's, their link opened and she was surrounded by the strong arms around her waist and the love that he held for her alone. Not a trace of any of the women before her and not even a flicker of the male Garom touched the piece of his heart devoted to her.

Starch shuddered. The chill that passed down his spine had echoed through their link and Lenore pulled back with a question in her eyes. She had felt his immediate association between the telltale energy of a newly arrived Ancient, and the meeting he had hastily arranged to hold that night.

"Should we leave?" Lenore asked quietly.

"No." He said after a short pause. "Maybe when LaCroix gets here, not until we start our meeting though." The energy shift would draw the male. He didn't like the idea of allowing Lenore, or any of the others, to wander around the BatCave without himself or one of the Garoms watching over them.

The male led Black up the stairs toward The Ledge. He hesitated, one foot about to touch the next step…there had been an impression of smoke, but it was gone. His foot came down and he continued up. _'If it were real smoke,'_ he reasoned, _'everyone would know about it. The Weres and the Vamps… No one is panicking.'_

"You ok?" Black asked as they finally made it to The Ledge.

"Just wonderful, and you?" he answered sarcastically. The dry crackle of burning wood was unnerving him. "Need to find Starch…" The sound faded too, but not as quickly.

"Going to tell me why," Sirius asked without enthusiasm.

"Too many Vampires up here, there's a meeting going on." He could hear Black's response clearly enough, he also knew he wasn't supposed to have heard it. "Relax, you've already met them. Back in Toronto."

The male noticed, with more than a bit of appreciation, that the female had arranged everyone from their party along the railing behind Starch. Starch was sitting opposite the Ancient, LaCroix. While Lacroix's Childer were forced to arrange themselves behind their Sire, in the middle of the walkway. They were being bumped and separated by everyone and anyone who wanted to pass by. A wonderful set up, in his opinion. Even if a Clan war with LaCroix was hardly a possibility, the tactical advantage of the easy escape that the balcony railing provided would occur to the former Roman soldier.

Making sure to push between every Vampire he could, and the Sire they were there to back up, he pulled Black with him to the far side and joined the others by the railing. The interruption he caused was enough to make the negotiations pause.

"Necro, and Sirius Black," LaCroix's accent less voice was edged by annoyance. "If that is the rest of your party…" He waited for an objection from Starch before continuing. "Then shall we complete the transaction?"

"Of course." Starch spoke with equal reserve and none of the frustration. He held up his left hand, the female immediately pulled two rolled parchments from an inside pocket of her dark green duster. She placed them in Starch's hand and resumed her –ready- stance, arms loose at her sides and feet spread apart just enough to enable her to leap/kick/duck/run/whatever might be needed.

The contracts were then passed to LaCroix for his inspection.

"Standard language for this sort of second party exchange, doves' blood on velum written with a gold nib on a Crested Roc feather quill, and so on." Starch went over the obvious points and managed to sound bored while doing so.

After reading the documents LaCroix produced a quill from one of the inner pockets of his suit coat. Nipping his own wrist he wet the tip of the quill with his own blood and signed his name at the bottom. Starch withdrew a quill from one of his own pockets and copied LaCroix's actions signing his own name beside the other's.

"Lo-Jack," LaCroix called the young Vampire forward. He handed his quill to the blond.

Lo-Jack took the offered quill and nipping his wrist signed the second contract only.

The male fought back on the simultaneous urges to lick his lips over the tension in the air, and bat at the flames that kept springing up at the periphery of his vision. The negotiations were over the contracts had been signed and the Credit owed to Starch had been paid. At an empathic signal from their Sire, the other Vampires dispersed. LaCroix rose and made an elegant departing comment or two, and everything was nearly back to the way it had been before the leash had been clipped to his collar.

Black was the first to speak after the Vampires had gone. "I have no idea what just happened. Is anyone who did understand it going to tell me, or is this just another one of those wonderful things I'm going to have to ponder for the rest of my life?"

The male smirked at the question. Then a flame came a little too close and he flinched. Starch had seen his reaction and was giving him that concerned look that he hated so much. "It's noting." He rubbed at his eyes, but open or closed it made no difference, because the flames weren't real. Snatching up Starch's copy of the document, he handed it to Black.

"These look a little like the ancient Phoenician runes I remember…but maybe, a different dialect or something." Sirius squinted in the low light. "What are they?"

Starch's eyebrows rose. "I'm impressed, but he always said you were good with Runes. They are from a people that had a great deal of trade with the early Phoenicians. I suppose they had an influence on the language."

"Which one?" Black's eyes jerked up from the velum scroll.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the influence went both ways," Starch replied a bit taken aback by the strong reaction.

"No, I mean which one of them said I was good at Runes." Black clarified.

The male rolled his eyes and winced again at the flickers of nonexistent flame.

Starch's focus was divided between Black and the male. "Oh," he laughed at his own slip. "Well, both of them at different times. He's the one that said it as anything close to a compliment though," he said with a nod to the male.

Before the male could interrupt, Starch was off again. This time directing a question at him instead of Black.

"Are you willing to take the money?"

'_A new topic, yes. But it's more difficult to handle than the previous.'_  "Do we have to go into this now?" He indicated the people around them, hoping Starch would be willing to put the conversation on hold.

"You want that leash off, I want to make sure my friend is safe. Easy trade."

"Bloody Vampires! You can't negotiate with them Black, they don't get it at all."

"Not going to work, my friend." Starch shook his head. "They are barely aware of us as it is. We're more private right here than in one of the back chambers of The Pit. Now, if you accept the money everything is fine. If you insist on dragging this out I'll leave that leash on until Monday."

The male slouched into the seat that had been LaCroix's during the negotiations. "This friendship that you are constantly offering, it makes no sense, but some of the things that you say seem related somehow. Is this related to your friendship?" He asked the question with an air of defeat, but he wanted to know what Starch would say.

He knew the Ancient understood him well enough to read how eager he really was to have an answer, even if he couldn't bring himself to express it openly. _'Open expression of your true emotional state makes failure of the mission inevitable.'_  Starch was waiting for eye contact. Fighting down another mantra, _'Eye contact is either an invitation or a threat. Neither is to be made lightly because both exact a price,'_ he glanced into the grey eyes so focused on his own. Taking slow breaths he calmed himself.

"Yes," Starch watched him carefully. "This is related to the friendship I have for you, and the love." He placed a thick Muggle envelope on the small table between them. "I offer you the money you need, because I love you. It is a free gift. Nothing else."

His dusky blue eyes had no problem processing the blackflame light so his pupils remained fat and round, the inner fire of his eyes remaining dampened. "Then how can you freely offer me love?"

Starch actually smiled, "Because I choose to love you. No other reason than that."

Smoke again, and the noises. It was enough of a distraction without devoting all of the attention that he was, to the meanings behind Starch's answers. He was only intermittently aware of the rest of their party talking at another table; they had managed to order some food and were trying to show each other how to use chopsticks. Frustrated at the way his attention was wandering, and the fact that, because of his lack of attention the team was that much more vulnerable, he growled softly.

"Is **he** dreaming?" Starch asked gently. As though afraid of speaking to loudly.

He smiled inwardly at the mere thought of Starch treading softly in fear of anything. "A nightmare. Nothing I haven't seen a thousand times." He shrugged. "It's just, I'm surrounded by people, and seeing things that aren't here is a bit much."

"Take the money." Starch said, again.

"You choose to love me." He rubbed at his temples and ducked his head as he spoke. "Because you choose to love me, you are obligating yourself to feel a desire to see me safe and well. This desire, which you chose to obligate yourself to, is motivating you to sacrifice of yourself for what you believe will help me. Aye?"

"Aye. You've got it as clearly as I can make it for you." Starch waited patiently.

_'But then he can afford to wait until Monday.'_  He suddenly grabbed the envelope of money and jammed it into one of his pockets. "I chose to trust you in that crypt, you didn't earn my trust it was freely given. I don't understand this love, but I understand the boundaries. There are none."

Starch reached across the table and unclipped the leash.

He had to get the loop off his wrist but then the whole mess went back into Starch's pocket and he immediately turned his collar so the buckle was in front. "Not playing that game again," he muttered.

Starch laughed and dropped the obscuring barrier he had placed around them. "Come on, let's get you something to eat." He stood and adjusted his dark grey lab coat. You need to eat more," he joked. "Your hip bones are showing clearly enough that an x-ray would be a second opinion."

He followed Starch to the group of tables where the others were eating, and he really had intended to eat, just like Starch had advised…but the female looked up at their approach. Then she smiled, at him. "Want to dance?" He said the words before they had registered in his own mind.

"Wouldn't that be wrong?" She asked with a tilt of her head.

Something reacted to her look, and he had to clench his teeth over his first response. "**They're** twins, we're not."

Only Starch and Lenore saw them leave, Black Lupin and Tala were busy eating and laughing.

Lenore reached out her hand, Starch immediately took it. **_'That was a significant exchange, wasn't it?'_** She asked him.

Starch framed his thoughts as clearly as he could. **_'The significance was in his expressing something so independent from what Snape would desire. But the bond they'll create, buy synchronizing and harmonizing their movements, will be very important…'_**

**_"When they fight,'_** Lenore finished the thought/statement. **_'Because they will.'_**

**_'Because they must.'_**Starch tugged at his wife's hand and pointed down into The Den, where the male and female twined themselves around the music, and each other.


	51. Bonds That Shackle

Eeep! I can't believe that I forgot to put in a disclaimer for this chapter when I first posted it. Ok well, I claim only the things that I invented and if you have questions about whether or not something is mine as opposed to say…the property of JKR, then please feel free to ask me.

**Gryffindor-300 Points-** DND4Ever gets Ten Points for the shortest essay I have ever been forced to read and give marks on. Not that I am encouraging single syllable reviews mind you…but DND is held to a different standard than the rest of you. ;-) Frogfoot receives Ten Points for a long and detailed essay on symbolism and implication in literature

**Slytherin-320 Points- **blink-blink  I was fairly sure that I had some reviews from my adder-tongued Slytherins (oh the little darlings!) but I can't find them…. if you reviewed and I didn't count you, tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**Ravenclaw-40 Points- **if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**Huffelpuff**- **10 Points-** if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 51:

Around three a.m. the whole group stood outside the BatCave, on the sidewalk.

The male addressed the female. "Take them back to the school. Get Lupin to bed, he needs to be able to make a good show at the Quidditch match tomorrow." She gave a sharp nod. "Tala," he fixed the She-Were with his eyes. "You will take the message that Fenny is keeping and hand deliver it to the person it is addressed to. You will not speak to them and you will wait only long enough to receive their reply, if there is one. Take Mescaline, he can guide you to the name."

It was obvious that Tala had taken the strange orders without question, but Lupin began to object anyway.

The male grabbed a fistful of the front of Lupin's shirt. "She's mine, Were." He spoke through gritted teeth, black lips pulled back in a snarl. "You want to change that, then you talk with me, but don't you **dare** challenge me over my claim." He shoved Lupin hard enough that even with his enhanced reflexes and sense of balance he stumbled backward two steps.

A sharp burst of mocking applause sounded from an alley across the street. "Nice show." Lo-Jack smirked as he emerged from the shadows. "I would love to stick around and find out how you resolve this, but I have business elsewhere."

"You're speaking to me, why?" The male eyed him threateningly. Subconsciously he was aware of the female moving to the fore right of the group, and of her efforts to subtly push them closer together in a more readily defensible arrangement.

Lo-Jack held up a key on a ring by way of an answer. The dull grey metal feebly reflected the club's front entrance light. "It's around at Fifth and Bloore, in front of the tattoo place." With a smile and an expert flick of his wrist Lo-Jack tossed the lone key to the male.

He snatched the key from the air just before it hit Lupin in the forehead.

Lo-Jack turned to go back down the alley, then snapped his fingers and looked back over his shoulder. "One question though." He didn't wait for the male to respond. "He's not coming after me for this is he? I really don't need a Half Giant on my tail for breaking into his storage vault."

"No." The male shook his head just enough to provide emphasis. "He's not going to come after you."

Lo-Jack offered one parting comment as he disappeared. "Were, some free advice…try asking him instead."

The male had turned back to his group, but pivoted to face the direction Lo-Jack's voice had come from.

Starch grabbed his shoulder. "Easy," he soothed. "The punk's gone."

The male didn't react.

Following his eyes Starch tried to see what had his friend so transfixed. For the unlife of him though he could see nothing. So far as he could tell, the blue eyes seemed locked on an old stone and brick building across the street currently being used as a series of cheap flats, to the right of the alley Lo-Jack had vanished into. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but the words died when he caught a glimpse of the female out of the corner of his eye. She was standing frozen, but ready to run, and staring apparently at the same piece of masonry.

The behaviour started to connect with one of the Phantom Memories he had from the male. Something to do with the facility— "**Lupin! Stop her!**" Starch shouted a bare instant before everything went mad.

The female ran for it. Without thinking Lupin responded to his order. Starch dug the fingers of his left had into the shoulder he already held and flung his right out to grab the male across the chest, as a fist slammed into his face. Instantly the world exploded into angry stars and black pain.

As soon as Remus had grabbed the female, with a flying tackle, she had gone limp. They tumbled to the pavement on the other side of the street and she did nothing to either break her fall or to escape once they were down.  Remus landed awkwardly, on top of her for the most part, but his head struck the curb's edge.

Tala was half way across the street when Lupin recovered enough breath to gasp out a warning. "Stay back!"  It had registered, through the throbbing in his head, that there was a fight going on. It took another moment for the sounds to become clear enough that Lupin could tell that he wasn't actually involved in it.

Starch couldn't tell what was going on except that, so long as the pain continued, it meant he hadn't let go of his friend. Yet. Something else broke, but he couldn't tell what. Everything hurt. Whatever it was it had sounded like a thick bone, judging by how loudly it had snapped. '_Possibly_ _my femur…sometimes being a doctor is not helpful.'_ Starch thought with professional detachment._ 'I must be in shock.'_

It was dark. Dark and warm. And heavy. Slowly Starch became aware of a heartbeat, very close by, and a slow moist breath warmed the skin at his neck near his jaw.

He didn't bother opening his eyes. If there was any light in the room at all, it wasn't enough to filter through his eyelids. Gradually the weight resolved itself into a warm body against his side, one arm was across his chest and one leg was thrown over both of his.

_'Cooler than Lenore, slower heart rate slower respiration rate. Taller than her too.'_ Starch lazily cataloged the details without really thinking about it. The person next to him shifted a little. He must have reacted, because the body beside him nuzzled behind his ear for a breath then pulled back again.

"You're awake. I should go."

The words were spoken so softly that they didn't hurt his ears. Turning his head so that his right cheek rested on the pillow, Starch slowly opened his eyes to find himself nose to nose with the male.

"I know it wasn't you," Starch whispered back.

"**He** will be waking soon, and you don't need any more energy…"

Starch carefully placed the palm of his left hand on the male's upturned cheek. Drawing in another breath, he tested his ribs a little. Everything felt fine, no pain but a little weak. "It was not you. You were supposed to kill me."

The darkly blue eyes became confused. "You believe I would kill you?"

Starch could not find words to frame his thoughts. He really didn't have any coherent enough to speak anyway. But he didn't need words with the male. Lenore's bent was a vague understanding of emotion with a focus on sub vocal communication, which is why he tried so hard to form clear words within his mind when linking with her. The male could receive pure emotion and unscramble his intentions.

The male closed his eyes, lazily, as he worked to interpret what he was being given.

_'No, not lazy, he's exhausted.'_ Starch stroked the cheek below his palm and carefully raised hand again so that he could reach the male's hair. He became aware then of where the directionless light that he had been seeing with was actually coming from.

Dripping from his raised hand like transparent, opalescent flame, was raw Manna. As though it were a sheen of sweat, it coated the male's body and smeared the sheets and his own pale, lifeless skin.

"I guess it's not as easy for you to process as blood would have been." The male continued to speak softly, even as he pushed away and untangled himself from Starch. "I didn't think you would appreciate waking to blood-breath though. So considering the options left, feeding you straight energy was the least objectionable."

Starch watched the Manna collect in swollen drops on his fingertips and then reach some critical mass that caused them to fall. Impulsively he caught a drop on his tongue. It had the thrill of a virgin's blood, with none of the memories.

The male had shed several articles of clothing in order to provide more surface area for Starch to receive the Manna from. Gathering the scattered clothes into a pile he sat on the edge of the bed and sorted through straps and inside out shirts.

A little groggy Starch took more time getting himself upright than he was happy with. The dim light produced by the Manna was enough that he could see the tattoo like mark on the male's back that was actually the small Dragon like Para-morph that the Garom kept. While the male turned a shirt right side out, he traced one finger along the small lizard's arched neck. "She must love all this extra feeding," Starch murmured.

"She doesn't take more than she needs," the male replied. Quickly pulling on his undershirt, the male cut off Starch's view of the rare animal. "I have to go."

Starch managed to gain the edge of the bed before the male was done with the buckles on his boots. "Before you go, I want to know what those dreams were about. You said **he** was dreaming, dreaming about what?"

The male's hands stopped pushing one strap through its buckle. He dropped his head and took several breaths. "They are nightmares," he corrected. "Fire, wood burning, dark hared children and rooms where death is going to happen. They make no sense, as though something is missing from the sequence. But I am there at the end. Whatever happened it resulted in my emergence."

He watched as the male finished dressing and waited until he was nearly out the door before he spoke again. "What are you going to do?"

The male released a harsh breath. "I have to keep up an increasing percentage of **his** work load and the usual Advanced Potions Theory. I have Longbottom's private training lessons on the use of Unframed Magic, and the work I do with my division of the Order. I have to find time, somewhere, to take care of my side projects and for the fun of it…today I have to put everything on hold to watch a bleeding Quidditch match. Gryffindor versus Huffelpuff. Whichever one of them wins plays Slytherin next week."

"I need to speak with the Headmaster." Starch's breath stilled as he waited for a response. He knew it could either be interpreted as a convoluted rejection of his friend, or a cold request made with no regard for the male's feelings as to his Master's involvement in anything they did.

"I'll send him as soon as I can. **He** is waking now and I need to get back to **his **bed before I loose control."

The door was closed carefully, and a few minutes later Lenore carefully opened it again. "I wanted to make sure you were alright," she whispered. "She, the female, told me not to touch you…"

Starch tried to calm her real concerns first. "I'm fine now. He actually saved me, but I think I'd like some rest before I try to explain that. The Headmaster is coming down; I need to speak with him. Could you wake me when he gets here?" He suppressed the odd feeling of wanting to yawn. It was an entirely non-Vampire thing to do, even when tired.

Lying back on the Manna soaked sheets he struggled against his healing sleep a moment longer. "Lenore." He called her name and she responded by beginning to draw nearer. "No, stay back." He tried to motion her to stop, but his hand made only a wavering flutter in the air. "Trust me, Love, it looks pretty…but raw Manna, it's no good, for Human dominants…Unframed…Magic…" A softer darkness overtook him this time.

As he was pulling a light grey tee shirt over his head an absurdly obvious question occurred to Starch. "Lenore?"

Opening the bedchamber door he found Lenore sitting on a couch snuggled under a warm blanket with her feet pulled up under her. She was absorbed in the book she was reading, and the intensity of her concentration made him smile. "Lenore." He smiled broadly when she responded with a soft grunt.

"Huh."

"I'm left for dead and you start a new novel?" He laughed outright, which finally got her attention.

Eyes sparkling with instant tears of relief, Lenore jumped from the couch and had her arms around her husband's neck in an instant. "Starch. Oh, I knew you two would be trouble together, but I never want to see that again!"

"Easy, easy now," he stroked her hair. "Love, I'm fine. I'm alright, I'm safe." When she began supporting her own weight again he pulled back only enough to look into her eyes. "Lenore, Love, I'm sorry to have to ask, but were are we?"

 "He said he wanted to keep you close by, to keep you safe." She laughed, a choked and over tense reaction, not real humour. "We got moved to what he said was the room he used during the summers. You still owe me an explanation of how on this blessed Earth what I saw, was him protecting you. And I know you're going to ask, no the Headmaster hasn't been down yet, but Fenny has and she said that he would be down shortly." She took a steadying breath and added, "Should I call her back, to take care of the sheets?"

He pressed a soft kiss against Lenore's lips and felt her relax further. "No, Manna tends to dissipate and get absorbed into the environment rather quickly, Love. It'll be gone in another hour or so. When Albus comes I would very much like to have you stay, we tend to clash more than a bit, and I need you to keep me reasonable." She sighed but accepted having to wait for her answers.

Starch gently released his wife. At her confused look he smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "I do believe the Headmaster has just arrived."

Lenore opened the door with a mix of relief at finally being able to get her answers, and concern over the way the meeting would turn. "Headmaster," she smiled and welcomed the old Wizard without giving away any of her own concern. "Please, have a seat. Would you care for any tea? Or perhaps I could interest you in a coffee?"

Albus declined the offer and did not sit in any of the available chairs. "I was under the impression that, Doctor, Ignatius wished to speak with me on an urgent matter."

Starch and Lenore both heard the momentary hesitation in the Wizard's use of his title. "The inherent prejudices of your society no longer cause me the distress they once did." Starch spoke sharply as he stepped from the perimeter of the room. He hadn't been hiding or attempting to conceal himself, but standing very still and making no sound is natural for a Vampire.  Walking forward and placing a loving hand on Lenore's arm, he checked her eyes before again addressing Dumbledore. "My wife though has yet to become inured to such crass behaviour from usually respectable persons."

The Headmaster's back had stiffened when Starch had made his initial statement. Even after everyone was seated he did not relax. "What is it you wished to speak with me about?"

Starch bristled at the command in the Headmaster's tone. Lenore's delicate touch was enough to bring him back down from an ego trip. Though a few slow and unnecessary breaths were still needed to calm him enough to answer in a reasonably helpful way. "He did something last night that has me greatly concerned. I was hoping you could tell me if you have noticed the same behaviour at other times."

Wariness coloured the Headmaster's words. "What precisely are you referring to? What sort of behaviour?"

He responded with a coldly detached and wholly Vampiric tone. "He was about to speak when he turned to stare at nothing but a blank wall. A few moments later he attacked me because I was trying to prevent his running somewhere. I believe he was being summoned by someone from the programme, perhaps with a charm or some sort of sub sonic or super sonic tone. Are you aware of any such mechanism being utilized in their training?"

"They both responded?" The Human's heart was beating erratically and his skin paled drastically.

Starch half lidded his eyes. Acknowledging to the Headmaster that he knew of the man's distress. "You know they did."

Albus dropped his head into his hands and scrubbed at his face. "He should have killed you…they are supposed to Glam, or eliminate any and all obstacles when responding to a summons."

"He would have killed some one else." Starch agreed softly. "He did not Glam, and I believe that is the reason Sev did not Glam. She recognized that he was not truly attempting to escape, and so neither did she."

"Sev?" Albus looked up at the use of the nickname.

With a small smile Starch nodded. "He has begun recognizing her as a separate being from Miss Moody." Allowing Dumbledore a brief respite to absorb that indicator of the male's progression Starch silently retrieved one of the pillowcases from his bed. Dropping it at Albus' feet he waited for the man's reaction.

"Raw Manna?" Albus carefully pulled his feet back from the edge of the faintly shimmering linen.

"He produced it to heal me, he wasn't really trying to get away, but he messed me up pretty fiercely nonetheless." Starch tried not to fidget as he stood looking down at the Headmaster. "Unicorns produce Manna in their blood, it crystallizes into the horn their kind are known for. Phoenixes produce a slightly lower grade Manna in the form of tears known for their healing properties. He practically sweated the stuff. I don't know how, but you managed to create something that actually **produces** Manna. Like other Manna producers I believe he may be immortal. A frightening prospect considering the fact that he will go insane when the graft you created breaks down completely."

"No," it was a broken attempt at denial. "Ignatius, you can't—"

"But I can," Lenore spoke softly. "I know that what he says it true. It's my job, not my field of expertise actually, but I do know a great deal about it." Soothing tones and non threatening movements made her words easier to hear. Lenore was very good at her job. "Like separating conjoined twins, this separation will devastate whoever survives. None of them are used to living independently none of them has acted without someone else being there. They've never even truly been alone in a room."

Lenore's eyes misted as she thought, for the first time, about what it must mean to Starch to watch it all happen. To allow the men who were responsible for the whole mess, to continue to be in charge, instead of taking control of it as he so easily could.

Starch swallowed hard and bit his own tongue to keep from blurting out a continuation of Lenore's speech.

"If," Albus hesitated for another breath. "If they knew, knew about the graft, before it actually broke down…would that be of any value?"

The bright blue eyes were pleading with Lenore and she responded with all the compassion she could. "I don't know. It would possibly give them a little time to grieve, but whether they are able to actually cope." She shrugged, gentling her words. "If their minds were charmed into becoming distracted when thoughts that would lead to knowledge of their situation occurred, but the memories were actually still intact, they should already know the truth. It would be like a sudden shift in awareness, but they would need support beyond what they have from you. The male especially. The female has had a framework of love and support, the male was left to his own devices." She spoke these last words in her most gentle and non-judgmental tone, the one she used when confronting abusers and enablers who were admitting their faults.

"I loved him…" Albus blinked a few times to clear his eyes. "I risked Azkaban for him…"

Lenore took his hand and squeezed it gently, supportively. A very clear thought passed through the Headmaster's mind at his own words. Lenore controlled her voice and physical reactions because it was her job to not become shocked by the things she saw in people's minds while giving them council. "Rather than face your failure to protect the family of your godson, you neglected your own son."

"There is a code, a phrase," Albus was weak with the realization of his failure. "We knew that removing the charms might be necessary at some point. A phrase was chosen for each of them, it would make him aware of his separateness, but nothing can be done to bring back memories of the facility. Those were taken completely and by experts more skilled in charms than I."

Carefully opening his eyes, the male raised his head just enough off the pillow to look around the room. Breakfast had been horrible, and distracting Snape long enough for Starch to have his little chat with the Headmaster had been difficult. Though physically weaker Snape was becoming harder to subtly manipulate with odd thoughts and random ideas. Eventually their mutual exhaustion had won out and Snape had gone back to bed after only a few hours of sculking in the halls waiting to catch unwary Gryffindors. The bedchamber was empty, as he had always found it, but the air felt differently. Moving slowly and thinking about nothing for the first several minutes, he gave Snape no reason to become restless. After so many years he knew how to function with minimal thought and no emotion until Snape was soundly asleep.

The male swept out of the dungeon as though his feet didn't actually need to make contact with the stone stairs. Clad in his usual black Victorian suit, open potion's robe, and the shutters that blocked all light from his sensitive eyes, he waited at the top of the stairs for the rest of his party.

"Black," he called as he fell in step beside the man. "Wouldn't be interested in making a ten Galleon wager on the game, would you?" Innocence was too hard to attempt, so he settled for a vaguely mocking expression. It would be more believable anyway.

"Don't know why you'd want to loose ten Galleons on something like Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, but sure I'll take your yellow." Black shrugged.

With a smirk the male glanced at Black, obviously enough that the man caught it. "That's blind House loyalty talking. What do you really feel?"

They stepped into the bright sunlight and cool breeze of the late autumn day and the male half smirked as Black blinked his eyes waiting for them to adjust.

Black looked at him for a moment, weighing his words. "With Harry and Ron on detention and out of play, even putting aside the fact that I favour them more than any other pair of players, I still don't see how two alternates with minimal playtime can possible hold two key positions and bring Gryffindor to victory."

"It's a bet then," the male flashed a rare half smile.

"Wait, what?!"

He shrugged. "You just said you didn't see how Gryffindor could possibly win, and since we were setting up a wager anyway, I took you up on it. Ten Galleons says Gryffindor will win today."

Lupin was moving toward the Gryffindor stands where Tala was holding places for the two of them and Sirius. Black moved to follow but the male reached out to stop him.

"Black, here give this to Tala," he fished a dull silvery key from a robe pocket and lightly tossed it to the curious man.

 "Isn't this that key Lo-Jack gave you. Uh…" Black looked uncomfortably at the thin piece of metal for a moment. "What's it for?"

"Your bike," the male waited.

"My, bike?" Black's face contorted into a nearly humorous mix of thoughtful contemplation and absolute confusion.

"Tell Tala I want her to bring it back here." Black was about to object when the male silenced him with a sharp motion of one hand. "I don't want you leaving the school grounds, never mind why."

"Oh, right!" Black stopped himself. "You traded with Lo-Jack, to get me my bike…alright, I'll trust you. Not like I'm keen to walk to London anyway."

Remus insisted that Sirius sit with him, so they could talk about the game, and to start making up for having ditched him for so long. Tala sat on Black's other side causing him to nearly overload on attention as she kept asking questions about the game, and Remus brought up memories of the games they had played.

The male led the female to one of the more crowded sections of the stands. It didn't take long for him to loose interest in the game, seeing nothing but black shapes with silver outlines meant he could not tell one team from the other. Instead he focused on the female's reaction to being surrounded by so many people who were, for the most part, very excited.

"Relax," he whispered. The players were taking the field and the spectators were madly cheering for friends and favoured Houses. "Listen to me, I figured out how Black stayed sane…" The female was forcing herself to appear relaxed to the point that she was in danger of falling asleep or killing the next person to bump her, but his statement was odd enough to get her attention.

"In Azkaban?" Her voice betrayed a little of the tension she felt. Which was an entirely unacceptable tell.

"He let it go," the male whispered. Taking the pale hand that was actively **not** clutching the edge of the bench between them, he carefully smoothed his fingers over her palm. "You need to develop the ability to shut out all of this, white noise. You had to pay attention to it in Durmstrang, they were more reserved and kept their distance. I learned to shut out everything but what actual physical contact could convey."

"I can't feel anything coming from you," she murmured.

He watched as she relaxed by slow degrees, for real. "Just focus on the cool nothingness that you sense from me." Unconsciously pitching his voice to a nearly hypnotic purr he gave her a detached voice to focus on as well as the lack of emotion being emitted through his fingers on her palm. "Filter out their chatter and to keep your feelings to your self. This is how I was trained after I was brought here. Just a cool nothing, no emotion coming into you, no one invading your space with their feelings."

The two teams were being announced with each player getting a special side note on their particular strengths. The male broke off his sibilant purr to raise one eyebrow at Black as the substitute Gryffindor Seeker was introduced.

Karren Ashmont was noted as the girl who would have been their seeker and who was still the fastest Snitch catcher around. Harry might be more reliable, but if you wanted a fast catch to end the game before it had started, then Ashmont was the name you called.

The male smirked. As he had expected, the game was won within the first hour. When Black demanded how he knew he shrugged. "Potter's a better flyer, but against Ravenclaw speed is going to do more for you than sharp turns and complicated dives."

Ten measly Galleons richer, and having put Black down again, the male waited for the female to come out of the near trance she had gone into before leaving the stands.

"They're gone," she blinked. Used to being aware of the people around her she was momentarily disoriented by the absence of external emotional assault.

"And we should be too." He rose to his feet and waited for her to precede him to the school. "You did well, toward the end I wasn't receiving more than shadows of your emotions."

She smiled back at him over her shoulder.

When they reached the dungeon they headed for their Sitting Room.

"Severus, Severa," Starch called as they passed him in the dark hall. They stopped. "I have something you will have need of." He turned and headed deeper into the dungeons.

Passing through the Morlock tunnels for only a short distance Starch led them up the interior of a long abandoned well. They emerged in a small midnight-dark clearing in the Forbidden Forrest.

At the edge of the clearing were tethered two black horses. The animals had Adamantite plating on their limbs and angular heads. Jointed, overlapping plates covered their long necks.

The female silently approached one of the horses. It nipped at her and seemed to approve of the fact that she did not flinch back.

"You called us by names." The male made it a question to Starch.

Starch shrugged, "I traded Lo-Jack his freedom for them. And those are your names."

"But, you didn't own him." The male said, charm-distracted from the name issue.

"I did after LaCroix signed him over to me." Starch waved a hand through the air in a careless gesture. "That's past, now you've got to plan your action. That one's Zodiac," he pointed to the animal on the left. "This one is Equinox."

"They're part Theistral," Severa cooed as she rubbed Equinox's sharp muzzle.

"Theistral-Friesian hybrids actually," Starch provided with a smile.

"I was concerned we would not be able to make it far enough into their line to get to the Dark Lord," the male said, half to himself.

"Then you already know there will be a conflict…" Starch watched for every clue he could get, as to how much of this the male could understand through the charm barrers on his mind.

The male approached and held out his hand to be inspected by Zodiac. "We'll need to get them to the school, Sev." He watched as she took a fist full of the feather like mane at her mount's neck and sprang onto its back. To Starch he mused, "I'm not even sure who we will be fighting…but yes there will be a battle. Soon."

"It doesn't feel like a horse," the female commented brightly, while walking Equinox in a neat circle. "The movement is more smooth, not so much shift from one side to the other either." Placing her hands on the animal's shoulders she gathered her feet under herself and stood on the moving creature's back.

Starch couldn't help but notice that she held herself in a fighting stance as though ready to spring from the animal to an opponent at any moment.


	52. Wants And Needs

Oh gosh! There has been a lot of junk happening and I'll just assume that you don't want to hear me moan about my RL.

Again I have not dropped this and the next chapter has already been started. I also strongly believe that it will be the fabled and much touted Last Chapter.

Please no suits and no annoyance over my use of the many characters, places, and phenomenon that I have been "borrowing" from movies, books, tv shows, and in a few cases Real Life. I make no money from any of these things. I DO intend to make money from my own inventions…but that is another matter entirely.****

**Gryffindor-320 Points-** Romulus receives Ten Points for transferring back to my fic; Frogfoot receives Ten Points for listening for insinuation and expecting multiple meanings.

**Slytherin-320 Points- **if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.****

**Ravenclaw-40 Points- **if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**Huffelpuff**- **10 Points-** if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 52:

The male lunged forward thrusting Snape back and reaching out with his knife. Swiftly he pierced the woman's back between two ribs. Sheathing the blade quickly he tried to ascertain whether or not his actions had been noticed and recognized for what they were.

Still very much alert to the dangers around him, the male relaxed from his subtle ready-to-fight stance. The other Death Eaters were too drunk on power, alcohol, and blood to have paid any real attention.

Snape had responded to the Dark Lord's summons. The usual activities that accompanied a Dark Revel had made it nearly impossible to stand by and watch without taking action. _'And so,'_ the male mentally lashed himself, '_what do I do? I add more blood to my hands! Another innocent dies because I decided it was the easiest way to handle the situation…'_

The cloaked and masked figures who had made sport of the woman had been loosing interest in her. They were not even annoyed when she coughed up a bit of red froth and went still, it was easy enough to just move on to another, fresher Muggle.

Gritting his teeth behind the mask he wore, the male seethed with frustrated rage at the fact that he could do no better than end the suffering of a few of the more horribly abused Muggles. Making choices that resulted in the deaths of women and children he slipped through the merry crowd, largely unnoticed and not bothering to take the time to clean his blade.

His path was suddenly intersected by a scuttling, hunched over figure that was every bit as recognizable as any member of the Fates; Pettigrew.

"Our Dark Lord summons you," the small man wheezed. Leading the way back toward the stairs the unstably minded man didn't bother to make sure he was being followed. His days of squeaking for scraps of food and attention were over! He was important now! Even powerful, important men obeyed him. And secretly, he knew they feared him too.

The male followed, as he was expected to, busy all the while trying to awaken Snape. Obviously even if no one had noticed his actions his **presence** had been noted, and by Lord Voldemort at that.

Pettegrew led him down a red-carpeted hall with dark wood paneling adorned with gold-framed paintings. He wasn't looking at his surroundings so much as remembering the vague sense of the place he had gotten from Snape's many trips down the same hall, and matching those impressions with his current surroundings. It took less focus and less effort to see the place as a whole, rather than trying to analyze it all afresh.

Placing his artificial hand upon the door handle Pettegrew seemed to be waiting for something. The male made some, vague, and deferential gesture and the man seemed pleased- he opened the door at any rate.

_'Of course, he'd be just as happy to escort us to our execution…'_ the male thought, hesitating another moment. _'Where are **you**?!' _He stepped forward and entered the richly appointed private sitting room of Lord Voldemort. '_I can't wait before the open door, not with the Dark Lord expecting **him** to just walk in and bow, but then…he must already know that **he** isn't dominant. So, Voldemort purposely summoned…me? Not Good.'_

"You are dismissed, Wormtail," Voldemort lifted one hand to emphasize his statement. When the door was respectfully closed, Voldemort remained seated before the large fireplace and watched the male with half closed, but observant eyes.

The male remained standing two steps into the room.

The dry grate of Voldemort's voice broke the several minutes of silence. "You…can not find him." It was not a question. Voldemort rose to his feet and slowly approached the male. "As you continue to fight, you are killing him…"

"No," the male shut his mouth fast enough to click his teeth. He faced forward into the room as Voldemort circled and nearly brush against him.

"You wish, to…protect him then?"

The question was spoken in his ear as the Dark Lord passed between him and the door. "I must. Even from **himself**." His voice was firm. But as Voldemort came around to face him again, he saw a strangely familiar glimmer of triumph in the man's ruby eyes.

"Even from, yourself?"

Starch kept pace with the female as she led him down a corridor in the dungeons of Hogwarts. The passage was oddly warm and had a thin ground fog that swirled lazily in the space ahead of them and puffed up when their feet hit the stones of the floor.

The female had come to him in the early morning with the news that the male had returned from the Dark Revel much the worse for wear. The symptoms she had described did not bode well for his friend, '_And Sev has **some** medical training so it was a more accurate description than the observations of most_…_'_

With no warning the relatively close walls of the hallway opened up, and out, to reveal a large cavern. Starch acknowledged the light but did not bother to note either it's source, or it's odd colour. His whole focus was on the large pool of dark water that separated him from the male, but he followed the female's running lead and charged straight at the rocky ledge/bank without slowing.

He accepted the narrow bridge that grew out ahead of them as just a part of the experience to be thought about later, when the male was fine and safe.

The rock slab island at the center of the lake was covered in a thick, soft moss, but the only thing Starch was concerned with was the figure huddled under the female's discarded cloak.

Dropping to his knees from a dead run, so fast he had to catch himself with his hands, Starch immediately focused his Vampiric awareness on the butterfly soft heart beat of his patient. _'Not good not good, too slow,'_ he thought, even as he shifted his focus to respirations and temperature.

As he pulled the cloak off the unconscious male a pale blue light fell over his shoulder augmenting the ambient light of the cavern. The female was leaning over his shoulder providing the light of her eyes for him to continue his examination by.

Without ceasing his actions, Starch vocalized his confused thoughts. "There are no injuries."

"If there had been I would have tended and told you of them." The female's response was as flat as the placid water that surrounded them.

"He's not in a classic shock." The male's eyes had to be manually pulled open so that his pupils could be seen. Under the light of both the cavern and the female's eyes Starch was troubled by the fact that not even an instinctive or programmed response was triggered by such potentially threatening contact. "It's nearly a coma…"

"When we Glammed back to Hogsmead he was disoriented and actually complained of being hungry. I had trouble keeping him awake and had to carry him this far."

The female's concern was well founded. So far as Starch could tell, the male was suffering from something like what Vampires experience if they do not feed for an extended period of time. Similar to being anemic, but because of the modifications done by the people who ran the Facility simple feeding would not be enough. 

"He needs the blood of his Human Sire." Starch said as he pushed one hand through his hair, "I guess I'll have to go aboveground and try to reason with Dumbledore again." He received no reaction from the female. Looking at her he could see that little of what he had said had registered. "Of course none of that makes sense to you, charms and all…I forget he's not the only one sometimes, sorry." Rising to his feet, Starch realized that there was no bridge to cross the lake upon.

The female saw him hesitate and spoke up, softly. "She'll provide a bridge just show her where you want it. He- he'll be alright, won't he?"

Hogwarts kept a few paces ahead of the one going for help. The Early morning sunlight coming through her windows would harm him and prevent his getting aid to the injured one, so she drew the stones together; filling in the windows until he was safely past.

--'-,------

_'There really should be a term for a Vampire's accelerated run,'_ Starch thought irrelevantly as he ran down the hall toward the stairs to the aboveground portion of the school._ 'Dash? Rush? Run**n **with two'n's? No, that's silly. Something the Vampire Council would probably go for, but silly anyway...'_

Darting around the few students in the halls as though they were moving in slow motion Starch stopped before the Gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office and living-quarters.

It was not a traditional lock; any Vampire could have passed it without slowing if it had been. Charmed locks took more focus and more strength to open, which is why there are more historic records of Vampire attacks on Muggles than on Wizards. Non-traditional locks though, locks that are but aren't locks, like a knotted rope or charmed door guardian, are opened only based on the Vampire's ability to perceive the 'Intention of Lock'. The ability to appreciate things differently, in their intended state rather than their current state, is one of the most basic differences between an old Vampire, and an Ancient.

Keeping himself Obscured, Starch stared at the Gargoyle. His eyes flashed a golden-yellow as the Gargoyle resisted such rough treatment, but it opened anyway.

Dashing up the spiraling escalator Starch's eyes sparked yellow as he flung open the Headmaster's office door and was stopped undead on the threshold.

Alastor Moody frowned his bishop forward five white diagonal squares to capture a rather disgruntled looking knight. "I did tell you that a Vampire was a bad idea," he grumbled to Albus, without looking up from their game.

Albus sighed, again, and turned from the game to face the outraged Ancient in his doorway. "Ignatius, what is it that brings you up so late in the morning?"

"Suicide?" Alastor offered, only half joking.

"You put an Un-Invite on your office?!" he choked out, once he found the words again. "Wait- you count this as part of your Private Quarters?!" Shaking his head of spiked grey not-quite-hair Starch refocused on what he needed to be saying instead. Holding up one pearl-pale hand he blurted in a confusing rush of words, "No, I don't care how territorial you are or aren't, Severus needs your help. I was wrong, it's not a solely triggered event, the Vampiric nature is also age- or development related, or they have a way to broadcast some sort of trigger. Whatever the case he is badly in need of blood."

_'Lenore will kill me if I get blood on the carpet,'_ Starch thought as he slid the needle from Albus' arm. _'She'd kill me if she knew I was running the ground level halls at nearly seven a.m.…not to mention going up a tower.'_

"I think I am goin' to fall athleep," Albus' speech was slightly slurred.

Starch was able to keep his reaction to the blood in check with a Blood pop in his cheek. _'After giving three pints he has a right to feel a tad under the weather, I suppose,'_ he thought as he moved to check Moody's bag. Passing the sitting room table that Lenore had insisted they (meaning he) have brought over from their London flat, he grabbed an apple from the fruit piled on the center of the table and tossed it to the woozy Headmaster.

Looking at the shiny green apple with mild confusion Albus tried to stand, but fell back into the seat before successfully rising to his feet. "An, apple? I thought you, Vampires I mean, only drank blood."

"We do," Starch replied with an unintentional half smile. "I am willing to put up with it because the smell and color make my wife so happy. Moody, I do think Severa is doing better than she would otherwise. You should consider releasing those last charms soon. If she can cope with it fast enough she may be able to help Severus."

"You've been giving blood?" Speaking around a bite of apple, Albus directed his question to Alastor.

"I may not like the Exotic…" The retired Auror applied pressure to the gauze as instructed, once Starch had removed the needle from his arm. "Through Severus he has a tie to Severa so I trust him when it comes to her care. And I don't have to like him to know he is trying to take care of Severa to the best of his ability."__

Opening the bag he had just drawn from Moody, Starch poured the still warm liquid into a goblet and placed it on the table beside the fruit display. "I'll send her in when I get there. Make sure she drinks all of it, and quickly. It does her no good if it has time to loose more than thirty percent of it's Vita Content," Starch ordered. "Not that your kind have a clew about Vita Content," he added under his breath as he left with three bags of Dumbledore blood.

Crossing Smeagol Lake on the bridge that Hogwarts extended ahead of him Starch reached the male and female nearly fast enough to make him feel that it hadn't taken too long.

Speaking as he tore into the first bag Starch sent the female to her guardian. She left obediently, but quite reluctantly nonetheless.

Starch sat cross-legged on the moss-covered rocks of the island and held the male close. The white stick of a nearly spent Blood Pop bobbed as he moved the sucker past his fangs and from one side of his mouth to the other. Gently he rubbed the male's throat in the same manner he would have used to encourage a weak Fledgling to take its initial infusion of blood.

The rattling crackle that marked the removal of a wrapper from another Blood Pop, and an occasional –plop- as a fish broke the glassine surface of the lake, were the only obvious sounds in the chamber. Starch held onto the ghosting whisper of breath and thread of pulse beats as though his own existence depended upon them.

The male's throat constricted and some of the ruby drops were swallowed.

Starch tried to not count down how much time was left before the blood would loose enough Vita Count to make it a valueless red syrup.

---'---,------------------

"Severa," Alastor greeted her as he moved aside to let her enter his sitting room. Suddenly it seemed a much harder task than it had a moment ago. _'Where did my resolve go?'_ he wondered as he led her into the room and indicated that she should sit. _'I'm taking too long to start this, she already knows something is wrong….she's too smart to believe this is just a friendly visit.'_

The female began moving with more caution the longer he remained silent. When her actions were noticeably guarded Alastor forced himself to say something. "Severa, drink this," he said, brusquely indicating the goblet on the small table near the sofa. _'Great, that was almost bad enough to count as small talk. Damn it Moody! Stop worrying over whether she'll be able to forgive you for it and try, thinking about her and what she needs!'_

The female swallowed the contents of the goblet and placed it back in exactly the same location it had been moved from. She pulled her feet up so that she was sitting with them to one side while she leaned on one arm of the chair.

"I want to speak with you about something that has happened. It is not your fault and there was nothing you could have done to change the events around it or the events that have occurred since."

She said nothing, though she did hug her knees in a deceptively self-protective fashion. It was deceptive because, as he well knew, she could easily kick out with one or both legs in nearly any direction, roll away, or spring straight up with very little wasted motion to give warning.

Alastor took a steadying breath and stopped berating himself for his cowardice. "Severa, I need you to give me a briefing on what you think of Severus." As his emotions came back under control the female also relaxed, shifting her position so that she was more or less laying in the chair rather than huddled up in it.

"He is a leader and strategist. He tends toward covert action with minimal impact and minimal conflict. If there is a weakness he will exploit it and if there is none he will create one. His greatest strength is probably his ability to get others to want to do what he wants them to do." She made the assessment without conscious thought and there was no hesitation in her words.

Whatever she reported was not what he was really after so he was neither encouraged nor discouraged by her initial comments. "What do you think of him?" he asked again.

She sat up properly now, feet on the floor. "He has an incredible will to be free, yet is willing to be absolutely submissive for a leader he trusts. His Clan is an extension of his own self and his care of them is a substitute for the care he has never received. He is a broken thing trying to survive and knowing he has none of what he needs to live, but feeling that such is his proper state. He is dangerous because he is so efficient and because he is willing to suffer. A willingness to suffer is something in an opponent that you can not effectively strategize against."

Alastor recognized the answers as trained responses, the first was a strictly combat oriented analysis of the male's strengths and weaknesses. The second was a very abbreviated emotional/psychological profile. "What do you think of him?" Alastor asked a third time.

Severa blinked softly glowing eyes and thought for a moment. "I- I like him. He's been through things that I don't understand, and I admire the fact that he tries so hard to overcome those things…he has taken me in and never required a reciprocal, which is against his nature. I trust him. Completely."

Alastor wiped one hand quickly over his eyes and across his face. "Thank you Severa. I have one last thing to say. I love you-" She started to smile when he paused to take an extra breath so he hurried to finish, "Severa, **'You, are half on the wire ball.'**"

_'Stop touching him, it's just waking him up and he needs to rest,'_ Starch told himself as he again straightened the blankets and brushed at the sleeping figure's greasy black hair.

"Did he get enough?" Albus Dumbledore stood just outside the bedchamber door.

Starch watched as the male's too expressive face subtly shifted from controlled pain, to nearly awake, and back to almost soundly asleep. "They are fighting, wrestling for control. Voldemort made his move but he played it ill." Turning away suddenly, he couldn't stomach watching his friend suffer beyond his ability to help, he brushed past the Headmaster and closed the door softly.

"Ignatius-"

Starch interrupted more gently than he felt the man deserved. "While you were giving blood for him you were thinking about him, weren't you?" He paused, with his back to the great Wizard, his spatial awareness told him that a slight motion had been made, a nod or a shrug. "Through the blood you gave, you expressed things to him that you never told him outright. The pride you felt when he excelled at a class, the pleasure you felt while playing chess with him, simple enjoyment of him as a separate being, never expressed to him, never felt by him."

"I, didn't know how…"

Starch wanted nothing more than to run back to the male's bedside and forget about unresolved family issues. _'But those issues are all I can help him with now.' _ He raked his fingers through his bristling hair. "The struggle you can see, the struggle that has him so incapacitated now, is because of what Voldemort has done. He revealed his intentions. He never wanted Snape, he wants the Garom."

The Headmaster drew in a breath, but said nothing.

It was a nervous habit, running his fingers through his hair, Starch caught himself doing it again and stopped with his hand on the back of his neck and rubbed the tense muscles there. "And as you can guess, Snape doesn't like the idea that he is being played solely because of what he hides." Starch turned but did not look Albus in the eye. "The struggle you can't see is Severus trying to make the love you conveyed through your blood, come into line with the fact that he apparently never earned the courtesy of its expression."

"I." Albus began, hotly, but Starch looked up sharply and he could not continue his denial. "I, failed him."

The admission was self-revelatory and not meant for Starch at all. He had been around long enough to understand that, but he still had to struggle to remain silent instead of driving the stake home himself.

Albus sank down onto the only chair in the Potion Masters' sitting room. "I've lost him, haven't I?"  It was not really a question.

"He drank of you." The resentment behind those words was so faint even Starch failed to hear it.

The male made a soft, mewling sort of noise but did not waken fully. The struggle to gain enough control to make even such a small and meaningless sound exhausted him.

That single, tiny cry was enough though; Starch's presence returned. And this time the Exotic did not leave his range of perception.


	53. Knowledge

Last time. If you don't get it now then you should stop trying because you are wasting your time. I AM NOT MAKING MONEY OFF OF WORK THAT IS NOT MINE. I hope some day to use some of my original characters in a "real" novel that I can make money off of.

**Gryffindor-320 Points-** Romulus receives Ten Points and a make-up quiz, because I love you so ;-) Frogfoot receives Ten Points for loving my favorite characters and making verbose reviews with thoughtful content, which is a rare thing indeed.

**Slytherin-320 Points- **if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.****

**Ravenclaw-40 Points- **if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

**Huffelpuff**- **10 Points-** if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 53:

"**Severa!**"

Starch was sure he had come close to restarting his heart. The outburst had woken him from a light sleep and before he could figure out what was going on the man who had shouted, collapsed back onto the pillow and everything looked as it had a moment before. Hands shaking a little, Starch carefully checked the eyes behind unresisting lids.

Dumbledore burst into the room and demanded too much information too quickly.

Tensely Starch answered as best he could. "I have no idea which of them said it- neither is sustainably dominant right now and I failed to see his eyes when it happened." Before the Headmaster could gain his bearings and ask more questions Starch straightened and, grabbing his ever-available messenger bag, moved for the door. "Watch him, I'll check on the girls."

"The girls?"

"Yes you fool," Starch snapped as he crossed the sitting room. "He called out for a reason!"

Opening her eyes Severa only confirmed what her many other senses had already told her; she was lying on the Exotic doctor's couch in his borrowed sitting room with two men and a woman staring down at her.

And then The Void crushed in from all sides. Mentally she withdrew, again. As the world was being closed out she heard the slight accent so often present n Starch's voice when he was emotionally overwrought.

"Obviously she's not adjusting as quickly as I would have preferred, but on the whole I think she's doing quite well…"

His tone suggested that this was an understatement in some way, but she did not have time to even formulate a subconscious Threat Potential Rating for the possible implications.

"…Can't really say I'm thrilled with you telling her in my sitting room though, Moody."

Forcing herself to sit up, though The Void's emptiness tore at the ragged edges of her mind, Severa knew she had to act quickly. It was just about all she knew at that moment.

The stones of the floor under her feet felt strange; for the first time in her life she was aware of their temperature and texture without **her** telling her that they were cold or smooth. The sensation of air being drawn into her lungs in slow regular breaths was foreign. Everything was too new, it all needed to be blocked.

The light, the air, the smells, slowly everything faded into a cool nothing that he had taught her to wrap her mind in, a cool nothing cocooning her safely between sensory overload, and The Void.

Taking steps she was aware of only as vague thoughts, she made her way to the door. A flicker of presence, her Guardian, Alastor Moody, but before more than an awareness of his presence could set in she blended him out.

One foot moved to a place a little ahead of the other, then the one that had stayed still moved to a spot ahead of the first… Something she could not waist time and attention to identify as a doorknob, needed turning. Down the hall like a sleepwalker she entered the Potion Masters' sitting room and advanced toward the bedchamber door that had not been theirs.

She did not look down at the sleeping form on the bed, she merely walked until her thighs connected with the bed frame and she could no longer move forward.

She had come, as she knew she that she had needed to, but she had no Next Action to take. Very fleetingly, she risked a moment of conscious thought, and gained an understanding; the fact of her being there was what was needed.

The touch of his hand on her arm broke through her protective layer of non-focus. Like before, at the Quidditch match, he provided a new, stable point for her to focus upon.

"**He** will kill you, if **he** gets the chance," the voice was an extension of the cool skin pressed against her wrist.

The statement confirmed her understanding of the situation. "Then you must protect me," she whispered back.

"How can you survive without **her**?" he asked. "Without the mind, how can the body function, and how can one side of the mind turn so, on another?"

His questions were spoken with that soft 'cool' that was allowing her to function as much as she was, but the formation of answers to such weighty questions could not be done without real thought. The emptiness of being alone was still too much. When she did not respond, the male tentatively opened his own connection, to see what was happening within her.

**_'Emptiness.'_**

The lack of thought, feeling, or even currents of awareness caused him to flinch back, but he did not release his loose hold on her. Pulling gently on her arm, he wordlessly guided her to lay next to him. Placing on arm across her middle he held her close enough that contact would not be broken. "I'll keep watch," he murmured into her stringy black hair. "You need to rest…"

Potions was canceled for the day. The only points of note were that The Bloody Baron held court over study hall, Draco Malfoy did not harass anyone but kept stealing glances at the door, and Ron, with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, made light of the fact that neither Potions Master appeared for lunch or dinner. When confronted later by Hermione he escaped by claiming a Study Overload Headache.

The male pulled his eyes open, with great effort, and managed to acquire a thin sliver of sight. Dumbledore and Starch were by the side of the bed; the Headmaster standing closer and Starch leaning on a post at the foot. The female was still resting by his side, at some point a blanket had been drawn over her. Black tears, like ink, were slowly running from her eyes as she slept, they stank of decay. He felt a deep revulsion to them and struggled to pull away, but he _needed_ to maintain contact with the female, she needed him. The male managed, at last, to sit up without waking the female or drawing attention from Starch or the Headmaster.

"Haven't you noticed?" Starch scoffed. He was responding to something that had been said, or should have been said but wasn't. "He never took the Plasti-juice at six this morning and skipped the noon dose as well. It is nearly six again and he won't be able to take it a third time. It's nearly out of his system."

"Then, I need to tell him. Now." Albus took a steadying breath and seemed startled to find that the male was observing him.

The male began to slouch back toward the pillow again. Their conversation meant nothing to him and staying awake for something he had missed the plot of, seemed pointless.

"Severus. Before you go back to sleep, there is something I must tell you. **Finland F-five; it's your wildest dreams.**" The Headmaster's voice was steady and strong, but when the male collapsed Albus looked away and squinted his eyes to force back the tears. "I'm sorry."

Distant, as though he were no longer actually within the body he was watching over, the male fought to keep hold on something real. Something with substance. But even the pillows he was laying on felt only dimly soft, faintly textured, smelled hazily of old linen. As the feeling of a lack of feeling intensified he retreated from it, deeper into his mind.

Aware of his surroundings, but also aware that what he was perceiving was not what was really going on, Severus slowly looked around the room.

Somehow, it was wrong. The furnishings looked the same, but they held no familiarity. The people in the room had nothing to do with him and their actions had no meaning. The room itself looked somehow 'right' but, like the chairs, tables, and decorations, the room was also foreign.

"She was my sister," a voice behind him said. "And you killed her."

As he moved to face the opposite direction the room blurred slightly; the lines lost their clarity and the colors became less distinct.

Now that he was facing the speaker, Severus knew something was seriously wrong, but in someway it still had nothing to do with him. Liquid black eyes stared back at him from an overly pale face. The man was about his own height and equally underweight.

"Garom." The man made the word a damning curse as he also looked over his near double.

Severus tried to make sense of it. "Snape?"

Snape did not acknowledge the use of his name. "You killed the only member of my family that I had left."

"But…" He sought the reason why the accusation sounded wrong. "I, didn't kill her…"

"The other one, like you," Snape made a dismissive gesture that seemed too fluid, too smooth, to be real. "You're both guilty." The shadows in the room didn't darken, so much as spread like an obscuring fog as Snape advanced with slow, deliberate steps.

Severus glanced down as he tried to focus again. "She died, in the fire…" Looking up he met Snape's eyes. "You both did."

"We chose to live." Snape's eyes reflected a strange, flickering light. "He was too late to save us from the fire, but he offered us a chance to carry on."

"The fire was an accident," Severus said, still confused by the fact that there was more to the story, and he seemed to already know it… If he could only focus enough to find the pieces.

"He was **our** godfather, and instead of protecting us, he was off defending a bunch of sodding Muggles." The air began to take on a slightly acrid, smoky scent.

"Protecting, Muggles?" As Severus thought, Snape stepped forward again. "No," he said slowly. "No, he wasn't protecting them…"

"He wasn't protecting **us**; my father, my mother, my sister, me!"

The room had been taking on a familiar heat, when the air began to chill and clear. "No, they weren't trying to protect the Muggles…they were trying to kill, Voldemort…"

The haze of grey smoke became a painfully white glare; light shining from above and reflected off of white walls and smooth flooring.

"You see it, don't you?" Snape continued his own point. "He failed us, he wasn't there to help us. A fire?! Who dies of fires now?! All of the fire proofing charms and Wizard-fire that puts itself out when the candles get knocked over, or the fire alert charms required to be installed in every home built within the last three hundred years! Who the hell dies of fire?!"

On either side of the hall there was a series of dark, vertically oriented, slats that could not be clearly identified because of the over-bright light. The dark rectangles were an endless row of doors on either side of the main corridor.

Severus' eyes glittered harshly. "I'm not you." The remnants of the room he had been in faded, he faced Snape in the hall…and then the hall shattered.

Panic strangled him as The Cage closed. Now, The Cage made a sickening kind of sense; it was the deepest recesses of his own mind. The place he had been trapped in for so long had started as a temporary retreat from what had happened the night Snape had gained enough control to actually lock him away.

The night he had found Ruth, being tortured by masked Death Eaters. The night he had momentarily taken over and killed men who greeted him with sick smiles of distorted pleasure. He had tried to tend Ruth's wounds and had been cut in the process. His blood, mingled with hers, and had still been alive within her system when she had lain with her new husband several weeks later. The child conceived bore his own DNA- not that of Ruth's mate. The child was the first 'First Generation Wizard' born since the time of The Great Purging.

Years, ten in all, of being locked away in The Cage had eventually fettered him with insanity. Two years had been spent following Snape's occasional thoughts of him, brought on by the reappearance of Voldemort. The last two years had been spent trying to recover through interacting with people like Lupin, some of his Marks, and a few Undercity contacts.

This awareness of things in their proper perspective flashed through his mind in an instant.

Now, a darkness he could feel, swirled around him, slithering into his ears and nostrils, flowing through his hair, and pouring itself down his throat and into his lungs. Absorbing him. Devouring him. This was not The Cage as he knew it. These were not the empty passages leading to places he could not remember.

This darkness was not originating within him, but it was being drawn to him. Somewhere, nearby, Snape was struggling against the darkness.

Severus reached out. His awareness brushed against Snape and the other reacted immediately, grabbing, clutching, strangling. Not in an effort to escape, but in an effort to bring the male down with him. He reached in another direction, any direction; away from the Darkness.

The Dark was complete.

He stayed connected to Snape until he could feel nothing but the unending, insatiable hunger of the Darkness. Snape was not enough. It wanted him now.

Thrashing wildly he tried to escape the invasive contact and the resultant press of emotions and thoughts he could not escape from. It showed him things he had done while he was in school, things he had done as Potions Master, things that were small, and things so obvious that no one could dispute them. Every cruel word and intentional slight, every time he had hurt someone beyond what was technically necessary, or turned away when he could have relieved suffering. All of it drew the Darkness to him.

Futilely he struggled against it, as Snape had done. The emptiness of it consumed his every attempt at action. In desperation he reached out. Snape was gone, there was no one there to answer him, but he reached through the Darkness anyway. Something outside of the Darkness had to be out there. If he could reach it, he might be able to follow it out.

Something answered him.

Where it touched the fringes of his mind the Darkness retreated. For a moment he tried to lean closer to the presence that drove back the Dark. But then this new presence began making enough contact.

As real as the Darkness, and as enveloping, this new presence also knew everything he had done. Everything he could never atone for but had tried. Real things and things he felt were his fault but hadn't actually been responsible for. It knew more. He stopped moving toward it as this knowledge was entering his awareness. Like a bright light it brought out clearly everything he had done, felt, or intended. And the Light forgave him.

He pulled back sharply. Forgiveness? His Human sire had loved him, but he had never earned even kindness, let alone forgiveness for the things he had done, for the secret he hid, or hid behind. Starch had never met anything but debts that needed paying or pain, freely accepted maybe, but never with a full return. How could someone who knew all of everything forgive his Blood Debts so easily?

The Darkness returned, agreeing fully with him. What of the child? He hadn't lain with Ruth, but he had never acted better than his own Human Sire when it came to treating the child well. He had provided money, and created accounts that would continue to pay in the event that he could not, and it had all worked well while he was locked away…but the evil he had chosen to do to earn the money for those accounts…the pain those choices had brought to Starch. He had broken Starch's own wishes the first day they had met, by feeding the injured Vampire fresh blood. Not to mention the fact that it, being his blood, had also infected the Vampire, creating a false, one sided at best, Sire/Childe link.

He could not feel where the real pain ended and the pain that the Darkness wished upon him began. Blindly, dumbly, without thought or reason he struggled away from the pain. And reencountered the Light.

It purged the Dark from whatever he allowed it to touch, but it did not advance on him. The Darkness reminded him, with his own memories, that he had never earned compassion, that he was flawed in some way that even his former classmates had been aware of. If he were worthy then why had everyone who encountered him decided that it was alright to make him suffer? To make him hurt or fear? Good people were not deserving of pain, only the flawed…like him.

Confused, he focused on the Light. It knew him too, could see his flaws and offered forgiveness.

Acceptance.

But the pain he had caused, he deserved to suffer for that!

Forgiveness.

It was true, he couldn't dispute the wrongs he had done.

None of that counted because the Light drove the taint of Darkness away.

He needed to make the choice.

Starch beat against Tala's hidden door with his fist. A growl escaped his lips as he spun from her door and swiftly returned back down the hall in the direction of the Potion Masters' private chambers. Before reaching their shared sitting room though he stepped through a charmed panel in a blank section of wall, entering his sitting room.

Tala and Lenore had their heads bowed and hands clasped together in mutual support as they knelt on the rug. They looked up when Starch entered, Tala's warm bronze skin was pale and fear glittered in the tears running down her cheeks.

Lenore swiftly rose and reached to embrace her husband, but he pulled back. "Tala, can you still contact the rest of his Marks?"

On her feet Tala grit her teeth at the unintentional slight. "Of course I can reach them all. We're Clan."

His eyes had been gold but now they flared violently red. "**Get Black**."

Tala ran.

Lenore knew not to move, but she focused on reaching out to calm Starch through her empathic link. When he calmed and his eyes were their usual clear-grey she softly approached. Gently embracing him she offered comfort.

Starch lost his rigidity all at once. His knees buckled and Lenore tried to support enough of his weight to keep him from injuring himself on the stones of the floor.

With a ragged gasp Starch leaned his forehead into the curve of Lenore's neck. "It hurts. Like loosing my Clan again."

Through their link Lenore could feel his pain, and the pain and emptiness he associated with the betrayal of his Sire's Clan.

Quickly Tala, Black, Lupin, Starch and Lenore were assembled in the Potion Masters' sitting room, waiting.

"I thought-" Lenore broke off her own words. Some stirred at her unexpected speech, and she felt compelled to finish her question to Starch. "I thought you had said his Manna strength, would…"

Starch looked away from the bed containing the nearly identical, and motionless, figures in the next room. In a voice like wind through a graveyard he answered, "I had counted on his having time to cope with being made aware of his separateness, before the Plasti-juice went completely spoilt."

Tala looked away and Black was the one to offer her comfort, instead of Lupin. It was a Clan issue. Lupin knew that.

Starch's eyes wandered back to the male and female on the bed and he leaned against the doorframe. "Psychologically it's like growing up with a conjoined twin, and after growing to maturity together, separating them. It's just not done. Each mind becomes too dependent on the other being always there."

Lenore silently held her hand out to him and Starch drew himself away from the door to join her and Tala in prayer.

Starch heard the rhythm of Severus' heartbeat change to a slower, quieter pace than was right for a Human. When he rose to check on Severus, Tala followed, her heightened Were senses had been trained on the same pulse.

"The tears are just the last of the Plasti-juice being flushed from their systems," Starch informed Tala.

As he awoke the male, moved with spasmodic twitches as though startled by every touch of linen and silk.

Starch held himself back long enough to gather gauzes and a bowl of cleanser, then he began to remove the traces of the long dead Snape twins from the male and female's cheeks.

Tala came to herself suddenly and gasped. "Benefit!" she cried.

Starch spared her a glance, then realized what she meant. Pulling down the blanket and opening Severus' shirt he quickly revealed the tattoo like form that the pet Paramorph took when it was resting. The creature was covered in oozing black sludge. At Starch's familiar touch it struggled to raise itself from Severus' skin.

Tala stepped forward and gently cradled the weaken dragon-like animal close to her chest, regardless of the damage being done to her shirt. "She has one too, very young. It's probably around her ankle or upper arm." When Starch found and removed the smaller Paramorph from the female's skin Tala took them both out to the sitting room.

Starch returned to cleaning and preventing Severus from hurting himself.

The male clutched the female tight to himself as he came awake. "B-bloc-"

"Blocker," the female spoke for him.

Starch stilled his motions. "Oh, Little One," he shook his head, "You know I can't do that for you."

"M-make the Empty quiet," he insisted. He was jerking about with more obvious control, but still he was unable to move with his usual grace.

"No, shhhh," Starch touched Severus' hair, trying to get his attention. "No, listen to me." Severus forced his eyes to obey and meet Starch's gaze. "The Light will take the emptiness, just give it over to the Light."

"C-can't f-feel it," he stuttered back.

"Then know it." Starch placed his cool hand on Severus' cheek. "If your heart can't feel it then **know** it with your mind. Set your will to acting in your knowledge of it and the Light will be with you."

Severus closed his eyes and slowly his tremors subsided, he stopped twitching in reaction to the touch of the fabric of the blanket and pillows. Opening his eyes Severus relaxed his hold on the female. "We are going to battle." His voice was a little strained, but he did not stutter,

The female hesitantly rose and stood with her hand still touching the male's, but ready to leave. "We need to get dressed and call the House." He nodded and released her hand. The female left, a little unsteady, but under control.

"Benefit?" He asked softly.

"Tala and Lupin are taking care of Benefit and Merrit," Starch soothed.

"I have to get dressed." He pulled himself upright with difficulty. "The battle will start soon."

"What do you mean?" Starch helped him to rise and steadied him for a moment.

"The horses," Severus enigmatically replied. He moved toward the chest of drawers but continued to rely on Starch for some support. "What do you think the horses are for?"

Starch answered readily. "You said they were for the coming conflict."

Severus triggered a manual lever hidden within the serpentine scrollwork of the bureau. A secret compartment opened and he reached in, pulling out his Skinlette and Harness. "Voldemort can not afford to wait for us to recover. He must strike soon or risk encountering us on the field."

"He means to come himself then?" Starch questioned.

The clothes, as the male took them off and dropped them to the floor, made wet sounds as they hit the stones. "The Death Eaters will not face the great Albus Dumbledore and Auror Alastor Moody without his being present. And he cannot afford to wait and plan too much or we will have time to heal. So he will come today or tonight."

"What would you have me do?" Starch asked when Severus was done and standing on his own.

"Get the horses." He tested his balance a little, walking a straight line toe to heel. "And make sure Pomfrey doesn't actually allow her prejudice against Slytherin to cloud her judgment enough so she makes a mistake she will regret." The Vampire understood the unasked plea to take care of the children under his care.

The male and female met again in their sitting room. They ignored the others present, even Tala and Lupin who were working at the table to clean the Paramorphs.

The male stopped at the door and tilted his head so that he could see a little over one shoulder. "Black, get Potter to the lake."

Together the Garoms soundlessly moved down the hall, ascended the staircase, and entered the Dining Hall. The noise and commotion ended abruptly at their appearance. As they passed the Head Table Albus half rose but resumed his seat when it was obvious that both were not going to acknowledge him. They stopped when they stood in front of the middle of the Head Table.

"Slytherin, to your Common Room." The male announced.

As one the entire House placed their goblets, forks, serving spoons, everything in its place on the table. They pushed their chairs back and rose. In a double line they exited the Hall. The Garoms were the last of their House to leave.

Sirius made it into the Hall just as the Garoms were leaving. He rushed, unnoticed, to Harry's side and grabbed his godson's sleeve. "Harry," he whispered, "Trust me, just do this and ask later. I need to take you some where else, and there isn't time to explain."

"He's coming, isn't he?" Harry dully asked as he rose at Sirius' urging. "Voldemort, I mean, he's coming."

Without answering Sirius half dragged him from the Hall, moments before everyone began to realize that something very bad was happening, and panicked. As they reached the stairs Harry came to his senses enough to run down them without falling.

The male cast a fog-haloed blue gaze back to make sure his Mark was following orders, then he crossed the invisible barrier that guarded the entrance to Slytherin Common Room.

The Slytherin students were arranged into companies, each Year having four, with a leader chosen for each company, and an overall leader for each separate Year.

"First and Second years," he began. "You will remain within the dungeons and act as the last defence. Third and Fourth Years. You are to remain above. Make sure that the Inter-House Operatives get their respective Houses down to the dungeons. Then remain above in the event that the upper portion of the school is taken. Any that pass you will be faced by your lower classmen. Go."

Looking over the remaining students, Fifth to Seventh Years, children still, he drew a slow breath before addressing them. "You will be facing your fathers and brothers, your uncles and cousins. You must remember; your heritages- your blood lines, mean nothing. Only the right or the wrong of your cause matters. They will kill. You will kill. They will not offer you a chance to surrender and if they should win, you will not be killed quickly. I think that's all. Lets go."


	54. Simple

I apologise to any of my long time readers who might look this chapter over. I sort of did a cut-and-run move on you and it was not fair. Again, I'm sorry.

Fuzzy Pumpkin! Yes I'm a girl, just turned 25 years old as of 09-15-04 and this is my first fanfic or story of any kind. I have added this chapter mostly because of you. I had become so discouraged by what I thought was poorly focused and badly written that I started something new. But I hate the idea of leaving you hanging with the ending as it currently is…or, as it was.

I claim no rights to anything that is not of my own invention and I make no money from this fic because it has intrinsic pieces that are directly borrowed without permission/ripped/commandeered from other works.

Hey I have no idea why but my formatting isn't loading properly. I can't indent to indicate an excerpt from a written document so I had to just insert a note telling you that it was a written document being read.

Chapter 54:

Near midnight the air between the lake and Hogwarts seemed to wrinkle as a concealment charm came apart revealing the advancing Death Eaters. No one fired a curse. Both sides eyed each other warily, hoping to see defectors coming to their side.

Voldemort saw that the pause was giving both sides too much time to think. While the students might have been trying to determine whether the figure opposite them was a cousin or maybe their father, he knew through their Marks that his own men were beginning to recognize sons and daughters in the soft glow of lit wands.

_'Clever, Garom. Keep their faces visible so my men might hesitate when things get close.'_ He was under no illusions as to who had trained the force that now stood guarding the castle.

"Master?" Wormtail wheezed for attention at his elbow.

He gave the fidgeting little man a slight flick of one wrist and a moment later the field was lit with the green glow of the Skull and Snake. _'Where are you Garom, I know you survived.'_ Slowly he looked over the battle lines again, it took only a moment, but he wanted to make sure. "Not here," he whispered to himself. "Where will you come from then?"

At a signal his men attacked. Voldemort went forward with them, but kept back enough to avoid even the chance of being hit.

In the sickening strobe light effect produced by so many flying curses most of the hits were glancing strikes that did far less damage than had been intended. The initial rush of the Death Eaters was held off and forced to retreat, slightly. Gradually the rhythm of the battle came through, the give and take, the ebb and flow, that the members of Slytherin House had been taught to look for rose to the surface and they settled into it almost gratefully.

After joining them for the initial rush, Voldemort drew back to watch the fight from a slight distance. His men did not need him to stand beside them as they slaughtered children. They needed him to face Dumbledore or Moody…neither of whom was making an appearance.

He felt them approaching from the forest, but it was a moment too late. By the time Voldemort had wheeled around with a curse half spoken, the male had already jumped from the back of the animal he was riding. With his hands out in an obviously shielding posture the male landed on his feet in a crouch.

"Garom," Voldemort acknowledged his opponent as he began to slowly circle to the right. The male matched him step for step. Looking for changes and finding them he catalogued the minute differences between the creature before him and the shade of It he had seen while Snape was asleep. Its fluidity and grace were freed from the limits that the Human form had intrinsically shackled It with. The muscle distribution and the exact places where tendons connected were not vastly altered, but he could see the changes as It continued to move with him.

The Garom kept his gloved hands up, wrists together, and said nothing. His eyes glowed a dim blue and the buckles of his harness and boots flashed deep purple, piercingly yellow, and smoky white with the reflected light of curses.

"You cannot kill me, Garom," Voldemort stated in an effort to bait the male into speaking. He wanted to hear the other's voice.

"I don't need to," the male responded calmly. "I only need to stop you."

Voldemort did not welcome the words, but the creature's voice, unhampered by Human vocal cords, made him think of smoke over calm water. "They have all betrayed you," he crooned. "Once all of this is over," a sweep of one hand indicated the battle field, "they will all turn on you. You are not one of them and never will be. Even the great Albus Dumbledore will not be able to protect you from being found out as an Exotic…at best. At worst, if you side with them, you will go back to the Ministry and be either killed, studied, or used as a tool. Together we can-"

He had thought that he was getting through to the male, that his words were insinuating themselves into the male's mind and possibly turning It to his way of thinking. And then the pain in his side, sudden and breath stealing, stopped him in mid sentence. The pain intensified as the long blade was twisted sharply. He had been ready for any sort of Magical attack, even Unframed. Pressure on his right side; a hand shoving him away from the blade and the one holding it…

Lord Voldemort fell forward, catching himself on his knees then collapsing to the ground. He had forgotten about the other, the female. The male had been right, It needed only to stop him; from noticing the approaching knife…

With the last of his strength Voldemort threw a curse he had prepared so that he didn't need to actually speak the words, only think them. _'Aveda…Kadava…'_ His wand released a jolt of green light, but he was dead before it hit the male Garom, squarely in Its chest.

One week later…

(written excerpt being read)

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore said that, and I quote "I had no idea that such a thing was going on, yes we were close, as working colleagues. He had always performed his tasks adequately and I had no reason whatsoever to think he was other than what he claimed and appeared to be." When asked, he said that the same answer applied to the one described as a 'female' of the same sort._

_After the horrendous and shocking terrorist attack that closed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry earlier this week it appears that we now have another and much older scandal to look into. _

_Exactly how did two Exotics reach the level of Potion Master? How could they elude detection for so many years, while being employed by two of the finest Magic schools in the world? These are but two of the many questions being asked and I, your humble purveyor of truth, Rita Skeeter will not stop until you have the answers_!

(end of written excerpt)

The male crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it down an alley as they passed.

"I told you it would be a waist of time," Starch smiled weakly.

He shrugged and pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his midnight green duster.

"Does it still hurt?" Starch didn't look over as he asked.

"I stopped a Kadava with my body." He shrugged again. "I'm a little sore."

Starch chuckled softly. "I was referring to the bite."

The male's left hand found its way to the two small puncture wounds on the side of his neck, Starch had a similar pair of fresh marks on the side of his neck. "You broke your fast…" He couldn't find the words to ask what he wanted to know, the idea that he had been worth the sacrifice still made no sense.

"When she brought you into the school and-" Starch stopped walking and closed his eyes briefly.

The male felt his friend's remembered pain; their link had been strengthened through the completion of the Vampire style exchange of blood. He had already been a Vampire, in part, and so had not Crossed Over but the introduction of fresh Manna had been enough to revive him.

"Have the two of you made any plans for housing?" Starch asked, changing the subject and continuing down the street.

"I just lost my job, my Race, my identity, and every right that a Being naturally possess. No, housing hasn't been dealt with yet." He changed his stride enough to lightly bump Starch with his shoulder and caught the Exotic's grey eyes. "I think we'll stay with you and Lenore for a while longer. Maybe get the Clan together and have a meeting."

"Lenore will be pleased on both counts," Starch jumped a step ahead and pulled open the lobby door to a London apartment building.

The male tilted his head in question as he entered the building.

The Vampire smiled. "You and Severa will be staying, and you've finally acknowledged the existence of my wife."

"Sev!" A voice called from several flights up. The male looked up through the well of the staircase. Severa was leaning over the railing, smiling down at him. "Where's the paper?"

"I forgot, Sev," he smiled back. "I'll try to remember it tomorrow night."

"You know, they had to have a cover story," Starch murmured, once Severa had returned to the apartment.

"I know," he sighed. Jogging up the stairs on his toes he didn't wait for Starch to catch up.


End file.
